Love in a Photograph
by liragreen
Summary: "His skin was cold against mine. So cold I knew I wasn't dreaming at all." Bella is assigned to research the Spanish Influenza for a school project and falls in love with a long-dead boy she sees in a history book photo. Her dreams—or nightmares—come true when he shows up in her biology class.
1. Chapter 1

_Bella is assigned to research the Spanish Influenza for a school project and sees the most beautiful man she's ever seen in a photo in a history book. She becomes obsessed with him and thinks she's fallen in love with a picture. Then, the Cullens move to Forks and she recognizes Edward as the man from the photo._

_This story takes an alternate approach to how Bella and Edward meet. It starts before Twilight and includes some of the events of that book. All recognizable characters, places and situations belong to Stephenie Meyer, and no harm is intended by borrowing and playing with her creations._

**. . . . .**

Everyone around me groaned in unison, and I raised my eyes from my tattered copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ to see what all the fuss was about.

Mr. Randall was writing our assignment on the board, and I groaned along with them when I saw what it was. Writing a 20-page research paper and planning a presentation was not the way I'd expected to spend my weekend.

And it only got worse. When Mr. Randall came around with his infamous hat full of topics, the piece of paper I drew from it read "Spanish Influenza" in his tight, scribbly handwriting.

Gross.

**. . . . .**

We had the rest of the quarter to complete the paper and prepare a 30-minute presentation, but I planned to dig in right away and just get it over with. I had enough to worry about this semester, and while this was a lot of work, I knew I could get through it quickly so I could concentrate on my harder subjects.

Mr. Randall's rules specified that we'd only be allowed five internet sources, and that the rest had to come from books and other sources. So I drove to the Port Angeles library on Saturday morning to get started.

I stared at the online card catalog, changing my search parameters until I'd narrowed down a list of books and articles that seemed most promising.

I trudged down the stairs to the history section and started pulling books from shelves. I dragged everything over to a quiet corner behind the stacks and settled cross-legged onto the floor to start my research.

Book one was a boring bust. Nothing but statistics and dry technical jargon about how the disease spread. I set it in a discard pile to my left. Book two wasn't half-bad, and I stuck bits of paper in several places to mark information I thought I could use. I put it in a take-home pile on my right. Book three was another fail, and I sighed, grumbling to myself about how long this was going to take me.

Book four changed my life.

I flipped through the pages, skimming the information. In the middle of the book was a thick section of shiny pages, printed with old black and white photographs taken before, during and after the Spanish Influenza outbreak. I was intrigued.

This was much more interesting than the charts and graphs the other books had, and I started to wonder if taking a personal angle and telling people's stories wouldn't make for a more compelling presentation and paper.

It was a few pages into that section—on page 218—that I saw him.

The most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. Laying in a hospital bed, dressed in a white nightshirt, the covers pulled tight around his chest and a young, blonde doctor at his side. He had slightly mussed, light brown hair and a sharp jawline. His nose was perfect, his elegant hands folded in front of him, his eyes closed. Even with the grainy photo quality, I could see how his eyelashes lay in perfect half-moons against his high cheekbones.

I sucked in my breath and couldn't tear myself from the photo.

The caption was no real help. _A doctor attends the bedside of a dying man. Saint Mary's Hospital – Chicago, Ill. September 19, 1918. Photographer: J. William McCarthy_

It made no sense, but I had to know who he was.

A desperate clutching welled up inside my chest, and I practically ran up the stairs to the reference desk, the book cradled in my arms.

"Ma'am?" I eased up to the counter and set down the open book, trying to look nonchalant.

The librarian came over, a short stack of soft cover books in her hands. "How can I help you?"

"I need to find out more about his picture," I pointed at the book. "Like, who this guy is and what happened to him."

The librarian looked at me like I was crazy.

"I'm doing a report for school, and I think a personal story would be a great angle. I really need an A." I groveled slightly, hoping my excuse wasn't too transparent.

But why would she suspect ulterior motives? Who in their right mind searched for some random boy who had died almost a hundred years ago?

"Well, I don't know that I can help you there. You might have to check a national archive for information that specific."

She set down the books in her hands and picked up my book. Flipping to the photograph index at the back, she shook her head. "There's no information here other than what's in the caption. I'd suggest looking it up online. You may be able to find out where the original photo is housed, if it still exists. That may be the best way to start."

We walked to the computer section together, and she pulled up an image search. After typing in a few different phrases and finding nothing about the book, she pulled up a general search for Spanish Influenza photos.

"The best I can suggest is to look through these and hope you see it. Then, if you're lucky, you might find some more information by clicking through to the website the photo is listed on." She shrugged and wished me luck.

I dug in, pouring over page after page of photos. Photos of dead, dying, hospitalized, nurses, doctors, freshly dug graves. Finally, a photo caught my eye. It wasn't the same as the one in the book, but the doctor looked the same and it appeared to be in the same facility.

The link connected me to a Spanish Influenza exhibit at the National World War I Museum at Liberty Memorial in Kansas City. My heart jumped into my throat. It seemed promising, and I furiously read the information.

The photo I'd found seemed to be one of about a hundred the photographer had taken at one hospital in Chicago in September of 1918, and I opened up the digital gallery. Photo after photo showed the same bed, same linens, same room. In fact, just about every picture in the album was the same basic photo: a young adult in a bed, dressed in white, eyes closed and looking already dead.

Finally, I recognized the blonde doctor, and I knew I was in the right place.

Photo 48 in the online gallery was the photo I'd first seen in the book, and my stomach flipped when I saw the young man's face. Photos 49, 50 and 52 were different shots of the same young man. I saved the photos on my thumb drive and printed a copy of each. If I couldn't find him, at least I had four photographs that proved he had existed.

**. . . . .**

_I looked from room to room, seeing nothing but empty beds and corpses with their faces covered by white sheets._

_I called out for him—somehow I knew his name—but I didn't expect an answer._

_My voice echoed down the hallways, ringing in the empty corridor and calling back at me from deserted rooms._

_I started running, dodging in and out of doorways, desperate to find him._

_Time was running out and I knew it. I knew he was going to die before I told him that I loved him._

_A slight movement caught my eye as I ran past what I thought was an empty room. I slowed and peered in the dimly-lit room._

_It was him, the boy from the photo, tucked tightly into the white-sheeted bed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive, and I stepped into the room with silent bare feet._

_His eyelashes fluttered—once, twice—and he opened his eyes._

"_Bella."_

_His voice was raspy and his breath shallow. He was fading, and I knew my time was short._

_I slid to my knees beside the bed and grabbed for his hand._

"_Please. Don't go. Not yet," I begged, my nails digging into his cold wrist. "I don't even know you."_

_My tears flowed, and I stood, shaking his frail shoulders. "Please! I didn't get to love you. I didn't even get to spend a single day with you."_

_His eyes slipped open again, and his hand reached for my face._

"_I'll come for you. I promise. We'll have forever."_

**. . . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys! I am floored by all of the great reviews and PMs you've sent me over the last week. This story has by far generated the most interest of all of them I've written; it feels so good to know people are reading and enjoying the story.**

**Thanks so much for all of your kind words. I hope you're just as enthusiastic about this chapter.**

**And FYI, chapter three is almost ready…**

**. . . . .**

I was like a woman possessed. I had a single mission, and everything else faded away.

I couldn't shake the image of the young man laying in the hospital bed: he invaded my dreams, loomed in front of me all day at school and distracted me from my studies at night.

I was completely distracted by him, and he'd been dead for almost a hundred years.

I had to know more about him, but I knew that finding anything other than the photographs was just about a one-in-a-million chance. Almost a hundred years had passed since he had died, and the way that he had died—one of hundreds of thousands lost to a pandemic—made it almost sure that few records existed to mark his life or death.

Still, even though my head knew it was pointless, I couldn't seem to convince my heart that my mission was crazy.

My drive to learn more about him was unstoppable.

So I researched every angle I could online and at the library, finally coming up with what I thought was my last hope.

Other than driving to Saint Mary's Hospital in Chicago and asking to rummage through their files from 1918. But I was pretty sure my heart and head knew that was going too far—at least for now.

**. . . . .**

"Where are you going so early?" Charlie peered up from the Sunday paper, the steam rolling off of his mug of coffee.

I grabbed a glass for my orange juice and spoke into the cabinet. "I'm going to the history museum in Seattle."

I turned around just in time to see him roll his eyes. "Bells, aren't you getting a little too wrapped up in this project?"

Charlie had been a silent witness to my obsessive search for answers. Even though I'd tried not to talk about it too much, I knew I was like a little girl overreacting to her first crush. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and my thoughts too often spilled out into words. Even though I was always studious and tried hard to make good grades, Charlie had clearly noticed that my preoccupation with this project was different than usual.

I felt myself blush slightly, and I turned to face him. "No. It's a huge project and I need a good grade. The libraries here don't have a lot of information, and the history museum in Seattle has a whole section about the Spanish Flu."

He nodded and looked back at his paper. "Ok, then. Drive safely."

I ignored the hint of sarcasm and hugged him over the back of his chair before I ran out the door.

Not even his scrutiny could upset me today. I was sure—convinced—I was going to find something useful.

**. . . . .**

The display was huge and sad.

Photographs of dead, dying, and sick. Rows upon rows of freshly-dug graves. Empty streets, rooms filled with quarantined families, widows in black.

The early 1900s were a world away, but I felt the crushing sadness of the epidemic as if I were living through it.

The articles said that young people—usually the ones who could best fight off disease—were actually more likely to succumb to the Spanish Flu. I wondered what it would be like to live through such a terrifying outbreak. I wondered what _he_ had felt, experienced. How frightening it had been to watch people around you getting sick, and then to feel the first twinges of the fever himself.

My eyes fogged over with tears and I poured over the photographs and historical accounts. I couldn't talk with him in person, so this was the closest to him that I could get. I had to make this afternoon count.

**. . . . .**

I'd never been lucky in love. At 17, I'd never even had a boyfriend.

Sure, the boys had flocked to me when I'd moved back to Forks the year before, but I was certain it was the novelty and nothing else. I was nothing special.

But more than that, the reason I hadn't dated anyone is that I hadn't found anyone special.

The jocks didn't appeal to me, the nerds were too nerdy and the bookish boys were too shy. I knew there was someone out there for me—or so Renee kept telling me (more to reassure herself that I wouldn't be an old maid who never bore her grandchildren, I'm sure). I just hadn't found him yet.

But something about the boy in that photo spoke to me. To my heart.

The soft crescent moons of his eyelashes told me that I had found the one I was born to love.

I was just born a hundred years too late.

**. . . . .**

I took a break from the exhibit to track down a restroom. On the way back up the stairs to the displays, I passed an open office door.

The nameplate read, "A.W. Erickson. Head Historian".

I paused and peeked inside. The little old man behind the desk looked old enough to have been a survivor of the Spanish Influenza outbreak.

"Can I help you, miss?"

He smiled at me expectantly, and I took an unconscious step toward him. When my brain caught up to my feet, I realized he very well might be able to.

"Um—maybe. I'm looking for some information about the Spanish Flu." Realizing how dumb that sounded—I was at a history museum with a huge display dedicated to the Spanish Influenza, for goodnessakes—I blushed and stared at my shoes.

"Well, then. Come on in," he chuckled at my awkwardness. "If I don't have the information you're looking for, I don't know who would."

I stepped into the office and pulled my backpack from my shoulder.

"Ok. So… I'm looking for more information about this man." I pulled the photo out of my folder and set it down on the historian's desk, my fingers lingering possessively on the corner, unable to let go of my only connection to the boy in the bed. "Like, what his name was. Who he was. What happened to him."

"Now, there's an interesting question."

His eyes sparkled conspiratorially behind his wire-rimmed glasses and he leaned across the desk toward me.

He reached for the photo and I forced myself to pull back my hand.

Squinting at it, he smiled. "Ah, yes. William McCarthy was one of the most obsessive chroniclers of the Spanish Flu outbreak in the Midwest. He took hundreds of photographs all over the region. He eventually caught the disease himself and died in Missouri in mid-1920."

"Oh." I nodded, trying to feign enthusiasm. I was glad the historian knew about the photographer and the photographs, but I was interested in what he could tell me about the subject of the photo, not the man who took them.

"Let me do some research and see what I can come up with," he smiled up at me. "Can you give me an hour or so?"

I walked back out to the main display, my fingers crossed in my pockets. I knew better than to hope he'd come up with anything concrete, but it was satisfying to know I may have a better lead in an hour's time.

While I skimmed an album of gravestones of local victims of the Spanish Flu, I thought about my predicament.

Whoever he was, I dreamed about him at night, thought of him constantly, daydreamed about places we'd go and things we'd do. I'd practically named our children and picked out curtains.

I had fallen head over heels for a boy that could be my great-grandfather. It was a little creepy. Again, I questioned my sanity. Why couldn't I find a nice guy my own age, instead of being fixated on a boy in an antique photograph?

What was wrong with me? I knew I was clumsy, shy, nervous and too studious for my own good.

However, those weren't my biggest problems right now. The instant I saw that photo, it had dawned on me that none of my usual flaws were going to keep me from being happy.

But one thing was.

The fact that I wasn't able to go back to 1918 and save the love of my life from dying in that hospital bed 75 years before I was born.

**. . . . .**

The hour passed slower than I thought possible. Fifty-five minutes later, I was sitting in the ancient wingback chair in the historian's office watching him mull over his notes.

"Well, I narrowed down the search results to make it manageable," he nodded at me and then squinted at his paper again. "There were 78 people who died at Saint Mary's hospital in Chicago on September 19 and the week following that. Twenty-three of them were males of the approximate age of the young man in this photo. If the caption is right—if he really was dying and did so within a week after this photo, his name should be in this list."

He set the paper down in front of me.

"Your John Doe may be one of these men."

I stared at the printed list.

_William Henry Markham  
Isaiah Samuelson  
Roger McCreadie  
Shawn O'Malley  
John Hoffman  
Edward A. Masen  
Sidney McFadden  
Nicolas M. Clarey  
Alexander K. Scott  
Charles Alexander Smith  
Everett P. K. Wright  
Frank F. Abramovich  
Thomas P. Higgins  
Raymond Aiken  
George Barker  
John Masek  
Thomas J. Lyons  
Oscar Miles  
Walter Spaulding  
H.  
Lawrence McNeil  
Joseph R. Vernon  
Matthew Eller_

None of the names stuck out to me. Yet I knew that he could be any of them.

A chill ran up my spine and I sighed. So close, yet so far away.

**. . . . .**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You guys are so awesome! Your reviews and PMs are so inspiring. And the number of hits on this story has totally blown my mind. I was going to wait until next week to post this, but I feel like you deserve some kind of reward for how great you all are.**

**So—will chapter three find Edward finally showing up in Bella's world? I can't promise that. But I will warn you that a Cullen does make an appearance…**

**. . . . .**

"Who are you?"

I shook the photo in my hand, willing the young man in the hospital bed to send me some information from beyond the grave.

"William? Isaiah? …Roger?" I giggled, trying to imagine spending my life with a man named Roger. "No, definitely not Roger."

"Renee, meet my boyfriend, Roger," I mocked myself, realizing the ridiculousness of the thought.

Snorting, I tipped back on my bed into a pile of pillows, squinting at the photo and the accompanying name list in the dim light.

"Bella O'Malley. Bella Hoffman." I switched tactics and moved on to last names, hoping something would signal to me the identity of the object of my affections. "Bella Masen."

Sighing, I put the photo back in its place on my bedside table. All of this pining was moot, anyway. Just a distraction from real life. A distraction from the Mikes and Tylers and Jacobs of the world who awkwardly tried to wear me down while I waited in vain for a long-dead suitor.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

They'd definitely stop trying to date me if they knew who their competition was.

I pulled a pillow over my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep.

**. . . . .**

_Horses and carriages rattled past on cobblestone streets._

_I knew I was dreaming, but I smiled and sunk deeper into my unconscious mind._

_This was where I most wanted to be, after all._

_I stood on the corner of the street, waiting. Watching. I knew he was coming for me. I could feel him near._

_A cool hand touched my forearm and I turned to face him. Brilliant in the sunlight, he seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty._

_"There you are." His white teeth peeked out from behind a slightly crooked smile. He was perfect even in his imperfections._

_We crossed the street, my hand holding tight to his arm. The day was warm, but his skin was almost cold to the touch. I shivered in spite of myself and pressed closer to his jacketed arm, feeling the coolness seep through the cloth._

_I turned to him and inhaled his sweet musk. The scent of him made me feel almost woozy. I took another deep breath and savored the moment. My head and heart knew this was the only way we'd be ever together. _

_A sharp beeping sound made me turn my head… what was that? A car alarm? That made no sense. I doubted they had car alarms in 1918._

_I felt myself pulling away from this subconscious world and grabbed at his arm, desperate to stay just a little longer._

But I couldn't stop myself. I slid out of my dream and back into the present. My alarm was warning me that another lonely day was starting. I groaned and hit snooze, hoping for just five more minutes with him.

**. . . . .**

That night, true to form, I was distracted and had forgotten that I'd put the steak knives into the dishwater along with our dinner dishes.

Reaching for a half-submerged plate, I felt the cool slide of sharp metal against my palm.

"Ouch!"

I jerked my hand out of the water, bringing with it a slosh of pinkening water. The metallic scent of blood already filling the air as I shut my eyes and grabbed blindly for a dishtowel to stop the bleeding.

"What happened now, Bells?" Charlie called from the living room. He was too used to my cries of pain and didn't even bother to come out and check on me.

I swallowed several gulps of air, pressed the dishtowel to my wound and walked toward the kitchen door. I only got as far as the table before I had to sit down. My head was spinning and I wasn't sure I'd make it without falling and injuring myself worse.

Charlie stuck his head around the corner.

"Bells? You ok?"

"Yeah. I think so." I held out the hand wrapped in the towel. "I'm bleeding, though. I haven't looked at it to see how bad it is."

Charlie sighed and sunk down to his knees. I averted my eyes as he peeled off the towel. The scent of blood coupled with the pull of the towel as it clung to my open wound made my stomach wretch.

Charlie sighed again and pressed the towel back to my hand.

"Yep. We're going to the hospital. Come on, Bells." He reached over and helped me to my feet.

I pressed my head against the cool window of the police cruiser. Awesome. This is exactly the way I wanted to spend my evening.

We pulled into the Forks hospital parking lot. I was sure that they'd have a spot reserved for me out front by now, but instead we had to park in the side lot. Charlie came around and helped me out of the car and led me into the waiting room.

All the nurses greeted me by name, and I flushed. How embarrassing. I was a walking disaster; it would be a miracle if I made it to my 18th birthday.

"Bella! What happened this time?" A too-friendly nurse reached out for my hand, and I smiled wanly at her before turning away from the carnage.

"Wow. That's a cut. What happened?"

I tried to explain without making myself sound too foolish. She laughed and shook her head.

"You of all people ought to know better." I shrugged and smiled. I appreciated her friendliness, but it was uncomfortable to be reminded of how clumsy I was.

"I'm going to disinfect it so we can get a better look at it. I think it will need stitches, though." She paused and picked up an amber bottle. "This might sting."

She poured a clear liquid on my palm and my eyes filled with tears. _Sting_ was a mild word.

"Well, stitches are probably a good way to go here. I'll call in the doctor to be sure, but this is pretty deep." She pressed a gauze square over the cut so I didn't have to look at it. "Being that it's on your palm, it will probably be best to close it up good before we send you home."

Charlie snorted as she handed him a form to fill out.

Twenty minutes later, the door squeaked open and the nurse came back in, a tall man in a white coat following her.

"Bella, this is our new doctor, Dr. Cullen. He'll stitch you up and get you out of here in no time."

I reached out my good hand to shake hands with the doctor, and did a double-take.

I was sure I knew him from somewhere. Tall, blonde, young, a long white jacket.

He smiled down at me, friendly and appraising. "I hear you're our best patient."

Charlie chuckled and I blushed in response, too distracted by his amber eyes and familiar face to respond.

_Where had I seen him before?_

I barely felt the numbing injection, and the tug of the needle and thread against my skin barely registered. I tried not to stare at Dr. Cullen, but I couldn't shake the distinct feeling that I knew him from somewhere.

I knew I probably held the world record for emergency room visits in various cities throughout the contiguous states, so maybe it was nothing more than a vague recognition of having seen someone similar in a similar situation.

But… the shape of his jaw, the way the light reflected off of his hair, his attentive stare. Something about him was just too familiar to be coincidence. I racked my brain the entire time he was putting 15 stitches in my hand.

Still, I couldn't place him.

Even when he covered the wound, smiled at me and helped me off of the table.

His hands were cool. That was familiar, too, somehow. I shivered and watched him walk out of the room, forgetting all about my wounds.

**. . . . .**

When we got home, Charlie helped me out of the car and trailed me up the stairs to my room—probably to make sure I didn't fall backward and need another trip to the ER.

I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, glad to be somewhere where I couldn't injure myself. My hand throbbed a little and I put it up over my head on my pillow.

I reached for the book on my nightstand and flipped it open to the middle where I'd stashed the copies of the photographs of my fixation.

I needed a distraction from the events of the evening, and Alexander-Everett-John-Oscar-H.N.-whoeverhewas was the perfect distraction.

But this time, my eyes weren't glued to the boy in the bed. Instead, they drifted to the doctor beside him, and I sat up straight.

_It couldn't be. Was I dreaming? Still out of it from the sedative they'd given me at the hospital?_

Ignoring the head rush I'd gotten from my sudden movement, I jumped out of bed and turned on my overhead light to get a better look.

No, it had to be. The resemblance was uncanny. The doctor in the photo and my doctor today could have been twins.

Or the same person.

I turned off the overhead light and jumped back into bed, suddenly freaked out. Goosebumps stood up on my arms and neck, and I put the photo back into the book.

My mind had to be playing tricks on me. Or maybe I was starting to completely lose it.

There was absolutely no other explanation.

That was it. I was losing it. I was finally driving myself crazy with all of this staring off into old photographs.

I threw the book onto the floor, flipped the switch on my bedside lamp and pressed my pillow over my face.

Great. To add insult to injury, I was now officially going crazy.

**. . . . .**

**_A/N: Ok, all of you who have and have not reviewed (especially the hundreds of you who are reading and not taking a few seconds to drop me a line and tell me what you think about it): Chapter 4 is written and ready to go, once I give it a final edit. Give me enough feedback about this chapter, and I may find the time to edit and post it early next week. _**

**_To sweeten the deal, the reviewer who leaves me the review I can't resist will get the next chapter in their inbox before I publicly post it._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Ok, ok. I know I've been stringing you along for far too long, keeping Edward in the shadows. You've been so amazing with all of your reviews and PMs that it's inspired me to post this a day or two earlier than I'd expected. _**

**_So, finally… what you've been waiting for: _**

**. . . . .**

The progress of my research paper was seriously stymied. I'd started off determined to finish it in record time, only to be totally derailed by the photo and my irrational obsession with its subject.

Sure, I'd done about a hundred hours of research. But only about two of those were actually about the Spanish Flu. The rest were dedicated to trying to find out more about that mysterious boy that had stolen my heart in just two dimensions.

Now, a few short days before I had to turn it in and present my findings to the class, I was sitting at my desk, staring at the partial Word document on my computer.

Just six of the 20 pages were done, and I was stuck.

Stuck because all I wanted to write about was him. But I still knew nothing about him.

Nothing except that he was probably one of 23 young men who had died at Saint Mary's Hospital in Chicago that horrible week in September 1918.

And it was starting to sink in that that was probably all I'd ever know about him. Time and history had passed by, leaving nothing but a few chance photographs as proof that he'd ever even breathed.

I shook thoughts of him from my head and started to reread what I had so far:

_"The Spanish Influenza Pandemic  
By Bella Swan_

_The Spanish Influenza outbreak of 1918-1920 killed an estimated 50 to 130 million people across the globe—more than three to six percent of the world's population. In the United States, 28 percent of the population became infected, and up to 675,000 people died from the disease _

_The source of the outbreak is officially unknown, due to the lack of modern tracking and research methods of the time; however, it is believed it may have originated in Kansas._

_The first World War helped propel the spread of the disease, with close-quartered soldiers passing the illness around their barracks, and eventually to other states and continents._

_The young were abnormally affected by this outbreak. While flu fatalities are usually seen among the elderly, infants and immune-compromised individuals, the Spanish Influenza was a different type of disease. The disease creates within victims a cytokine storm, which creates a strong immune system relation, causing immune cells within the body to over-multiply and damage body tissue and organs. This reaction is even stronger in individuals with strong immune systems. The type of disease, along with their higher rate of exposure meant that young adults suffered unusually high rates of infection and death…"_

I stopped there, choking on the blandness of it all.

Factual, yes. Interesting, eh. It would probably get me a good grade, but it was so dry, it made my brain hurt. I knew it would never translate into a good presentation. I was so shy that getting up in front of the class to present was already borderline torture, and I knew that having an interesting presentation was the only way to direct attention away from myself and onto the topic at hand.

Inspiration suddenly struck. What was more interesting to teenagers than the sad tale of another teenager—just one that happened to have been born a hundred years ago—struck down in the prime of his life by a horrible, tragic disease?

Spurred on by my irrational attraction to him and the need to have a story to tell myself and my classmates, I opened a new document and started again.

_"When the fever set in, he could no longer ignore the symptoms. He stared into the mirror, the sheen of sweat light on his forehead. His eyes were starting to yellow, his skin growing clammy and ashen._

_ He was sick. And sick was not good. Because' sick', for those sick with the Spanish Influenza in 1918, often meant 'almost dead.'_

_The disease moved rapidly, and just a few days after the first symptoms appeared…"_

I scanned the list of names and picked a first and last at random.

_"…Thomas Spaulding lay in a bed in the Spanish Influenza ward at Saint Mary's Hospital in Chicago._

_First, his fever burned and parched his body. Then, his lungs started to fill with fluid, making it hard for him to breathe. His eyes became bloodshot, his nose started to bleed. The coughing and wheezing racked his body._

_ The nurses and doctors tried to keep him comfortable, but the moans and cries of those dying around him only reminded him of his probable fate._

_His parents had already succumbed to the disease, as had many of his neighbors and friends. As the Spanish Flu had begun to spread through his Chicago neighborhood, he had a feeling he would not be immune._

_But he didn't expect waiting for death to be so horrible."_

Ok, so it was a little dramatic. But it gave me a back-story; one I desperately needed, if only to give myself some closure.

I worked inexhaustibly, putting together fact and fiction and weaving a compelling story that I hoped would draw in my classmates and earn me a good grade.

As I added the photos of the boy in the hospital bed to the presentation slide show, I smiled. Most of all, I hoped—if only he were able to know it—that he'd be glad someone was giving him a voice after all this time.

**. . . . .**

The day before I was supposed to present my report, Forks High was abuzz. Five new students had enrolled, and a fast-moving rumor had it that they were all model material.

I heard footsteps coming my way and shut my folder just in time, hiding the photograph I'd been staring at.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Jessica flung herself into my open locker door, clanging it loudly against the lockers next to mine.

"What is going on?" I stepped back and tried to get away from her, but to no avail. She grabbed my forearms—I'd put them up to protect myself—and hopped up and down yelling unintelligibly in a high-pitched squeal.

"Jess, you need to breathe," I tried to talk over her. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"They. Are. So. Amazingly. Gorgeous." She separated each word, punctuated with flailing arms and wild eyes.

_"Who?"_

"The Cullens!"

"Who are 'The Cullens'?" As I held up my hands to make quote marks around the words to lightly mock Jessica's enthusiasm, my mind briefly flashed to the new doctor at the hospital—in the photo?—and I shook my head. No, he was way too young to have kids in high school.

"The new kids! Bella, you're going to _die_. There are three guys. _Three! _That means one for you, one for me and one for Angela." She giggled and hopped around some more, holding up three fingers on each hand.

"Um, Angela's with Ben. And you're basically going out with Mike…right?" I squinted at her, and she flipped her hair nonchalantly.

"Well, Mike has nothing on these guys. And Angela can do better."

Then she flung off down the hallway, chasing after Angela with a whoop.

I slammed my locker shut and headed to biology. Sometimes I wasn't sure why I was friends with her.

Mike was stopped in the doorway of the biology room, obviously waiting for me. I groaned inwardly. _Was everyone trying to annoy me today?_

"Hey, Arizona." Mike winked at me and puffed out his chest. I wanted to roll my eyes. Instead, I managed a weak smile.

"Hi, Mike."

"So, um, you got any plans tonight? 'Cause I think I should take you to a movie or something."

"Oh. Uh—yeah. I… I have to finish that big history paper for tomorrow. I'm not done yet."

Mike tipped his head and looked at me skeptically. He knew I always finished projects way ahead of time.

"Riiiight. What's going on, Swan? You've been weird lately. Got a boyfriend I don't know about?"

I clenched my fists around my books. I just wanted to go to class. Sit down, pull out my notes and photograph…

Before I knew it, I was answering him. "Actually, I guess you could say that."

Mike's mouth dropped open, but he didn't say anything. I'd never before seen him speechless.

I was emboldened by his widening eyes and dug in deeper. "I mean, it's nothing official, but I have been seeing a lot of someone lately. You don't know him, though, so don't ask."

"Oh." He looked at me strangely, then laughed. "Please tell me it's not one of the new kids. Those guys look like total douchebags. Hair gel and expensive clothes do not a good boyfriend make, Bella."

"No. I just… I have to get to my seat. To review …or something…" I sighed and pushed past him. Leave it to Mike to counsel me to avoid boys who matched his description.

I sat down and reopened my folder of notes for my presentation, just to look busy. The list of names was at the top of the stack and I read through the top few again. Again, I wondered who each of these men were—or, rather, who they had been before the epidemic had ended their lives. I wondered if I had managed to capture a semi-realistic version of their story in my report.

And most importantly, I wondered if one of the names was really that of the young man in the hospital bed.

The second bell rang and my classmates settled in around me. I closed my eyes and let myself daydream for a moment. I imagined being in the hospital. Walking from bed to bed, peering at each of the faces—looking for him.

The teacher cleared his throat to begin class.

When I opened my eyes, the boy in the photo was standing at the front of the classroom staring directly at me.

**. . . . .**

**_A/N: So… Edward finally appears. Tell me your thoughts! I can't wait to hear what you think of the big reveal._**

**_I'd feel worse about the cliffhanger, but the next—very short—chapter is just about ready. It's an immediate continuation of this chapter, but it just seemed like it needed to be its own post. I'll post it shortly. I won't leave you hanging for long, I promise. :)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**. . . . .**

When I opened my eyes, the boy in the photo was standing at the front of the classroom staring directly at me.

My eyes were glued to his. I couldn't breathe; my heart pounded in my chest.

I knew it was him. His features were a little sharper, his hair more coppery than the photo suggested, but it was him.

I'd lived and breathed him for the last month. Awake, sleeping, dreaming, daydreaming; he was always with me. I'd know him anywhere.

I pulled in a long, slow breath and tore my eyes from his gaze. I opened my folder and flipped as casually as I could to the photos I'd printed from the national archive slideshow.

I tried to convince myself I was hallucinating.

I wasn't.

I looked from the photo to the boy, from the boy to the photo. Begging myself to get a grip on reality. He watched me, seeming confused by my confusion.

It was him. Definitely him.

I felt a little woozy.

I hear Mr. Banner clear his throat and make an announcement. "Class, this is our new student. Edward Cullen. He joins us from Alaska."

My mind spun faster than my head.

_Edward… that was one of the names on the list. But it was Edward Masen. Not Edward Cullen._

_Wait. _

_Cullen. Cullen?_

_The doctor from the ER—and maybe the photo? The boy in the photo was the son of the doctor… in the photo?_

"You can take the empty seat near the window," Mr. Banner quietly addressed Edward, but I heard him loud and clear through my confusion. "Next to Bella."

I felt woozier still.

He walked toward me, stiffly. I could only watch his silent shoes as he approached, but I knew he was staring at me equally as hard as I was trying not to look at him. I tried to control my breathing, my heart pounding louder and louder as he approached.

He scooted back the chair and sat down soundlessly, looking at me sideways. I hid behind my hair, unable to face him.

_What the hell was going on? _I was sure I was dreaming. There was no other rational explanation.

That must be it. I'd been so focused on, so preoccupied by the boy in the photo, that I'd driven myself mad. I was hallucinating. First, hallucinating that the doctor from the ER was the doctor from the photo, and now I was hallucinating again. Only this time, I was imagining that the boy in the hospital bed had come back to life and was sitting beside me.

"Hello. I'm Edward."

His voice was musical, magical. The same voice from my dream.

I took in a deep breath and caught a faint thread of sweetness in the air. Like in my dream, too. It was all too much to be a coincidence. I was convinced I was imagining all of it.

Until he smiled at me sideways. I turned to look at him, unable to ignore the familiar crooked smile.

He shyly held out his hand. I reached for it. His skin was cold against mine.

So cold I knew I wasn't dreaming at all.

**. . . . .**

**A/N Ok, guys… that might be it. I've waffled over it, half-written several possible follow-up chapters, and come to the conclusion that it might be best to leave it here and let the story pick up with and go where the original books take it.**

**Sometimes less is more; isn't that what they say? Or, you have to know when to let go? Or not.  
**

**What do you think? Should I mark this story complete? Or continue it?**

**Let me know. I'd love your feedback.**

**Oh, and if your vote is to continue on, review or PM me with your ideas for where it should go. I have a few possible scenarios (some following the basic arc of the book, others going in a totally different direction), and I simply can't decide.**

**I'm a fan of ambiguous endings (if you are, too, check out my story Hand-in-Hand-in-Hand if you're a Hunger Games fic reader), so I tend to leave things purposely unfinished if left to my own devices.**

**And while you're thinking about whether to encourage me to continue on or end it here (and reviewing and PMing!), here's a shameless plug for some of my other stories that you may have missed:  
**

**-If you liked the living Edward/peek into the past that this story included, "First Blush" is a tale of 1918 Edward and his first love-a girl that is very familiar.**

-If you love Darkward (very!Darkward), my oneshot "You Never Forget Your First" is so for you.  


**-And if you're a closet Jacob fan (or not-so-closeted, as in my case) and have time for 30-plus chapters of angsty in-or-out-of-the-friend-zone goodness, give "Love and War" a go.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Woah, sorry to leave you guys hanging for so very long. How embarrassing. My senior year is a little more than I'd bargained for… SATs, college applications, internships, community service hours and—oh, yeah—homework and trying to have some kind of a social life gets in the way of for-fun reading and writing. That and I simply couldn't decide in which direction I wanted to take this.**

**So thanks for sticking with me despite my long absence. **

**Without further ado, here is the chapter you've waited so long for:**

**. . . . .**

He shyly held out his hand. I reached for it. His skin was cold against mine.

So cold I knew I wasn't dreaming at all.

I shivered as he shook my limp hand, peering deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to read my thoughts.

"You're Bella?" He prompted. I was so tongue-tied that I was afraid to speak.

Instead, I just nodded mutely and tried not to hyperventilate. I stared above his eyes, focusing on his one cocked eyebrow so I wouldn't lose my cool.

_Breathe, Bella. Just breathe._

My mind was still racing, trying to add it all up.

There was no way he could be the boy from the photo. That photo was almost a century old. And even if he were that same person and had managed to survive the flu outbreak of 1918, he would be a 100-year old man, not the new kid in my junior biology class.

But what were the odds that this Edward could look exactly like the boy in the photo? And if he wasn't, how was I so sure I knew him?

If he wasn't he boy from my dreams, why did I recognize the coolness of his skin, the sweetness of his scent, his crooked smile?

To make matters odder, even if he was the boy from my dreams, how did I recognize him before I'd even met him? The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I hiccupped in surprise.

Edward smiled at me, a glint in his eyes. That familiar half-smile played on his lips, and he shook his head lightly.

"You're a strange one, Bella."

Mr. Banner cleared his throat and we both turned to face the front of the room. Class started, but I had no idea what was going on. All I could concentrate on was Edward's profile in my peripheral vision. My breath was coming harder and faster than usual, and I consciously tried to calm myself. I didn't want this Edward Cullen to think I was a psycho or something.

Whether or not he was the boy from the photographs, he was seriously attractive. And there was a definite shortage of datable boys in Forks. I didn't want to alienate the most gorgeous one in the bunch during my first three minutes with him.

_Get a grip, Swan._ I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

I concentrated on breathing evenly, steadily. I felt my heart slow to a more normal pace, and the room stopped spinning.

Next to me, Edward shifted in his seat, sending a faint waft of his sweet cologne in my direction. I took a deeper breath and felt myself relax even more. The familiar scent calmed me, and I took another deep breath for good measure.

I was going to be ok. I could do this. And all of my answers would come in time. I hoped.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he flipped open his welcome folder and thumbed through the papers. He pulled out a class schedule and studied it.

But something below it pulled my attention away from seeing if we had any other classes together.

Printed at the top of the paper in 14-point Times New Roman Bold was his student ID and full name.

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen.

A memory screamed to the forefront of my panicked thoughts, showing me the image of the list of Spanish Flu victims that was practically burned into my retinas from weeks of intent study.

_Edward A. Masen._

I was completely stunned. My brain was totally unable to process what I was reading. But my whole body reacted without prompting. I shot up out of my seat so suddenly that my chair flipped over behind me and crashed to the floor. I didn't even have time to grab my books. I just half-ran, half-stumbled past my staring classmates and out of the door, down the hallway and out of the front doors of the school.

I didn't know where I was going—all I knew is that I couldn't sit there next to a ghost.

**. . . . .**

I found myself in the wooded clearing behind the school, close enough that I could still hear the band practicing and far enough that I couldn't see the buildings. Far enough that I hoped no one could hear my panicked shrieking. Hands in my hair, I spun in a circle and pressed my face against a giant boulder. I pounded the rock with my fists in an overly-dramatic flourish.

I was terrified, intrigued, confused, disturbed. But mostly terrified.

Terrified that I was losing my mind, and even more terrified of the razor-thin possibility that I wasn't.

I collapsed on a mossy fallen tree and took huge gulps of air.

My lungs burned from my unplanned escape, my heart thudded in my chest. Sweat had broken out over my forehead and I struggled to free myself from my flannel shirt that suddenly felt as hot as a down parka and as confining as a the straightjacket that I probably should be wearing.

I tipped over backward, clutching at my ragged t-shirt and trying to ascertain if I was having a heart attack.

This was not happening. I wasn't sure what _it_ was, exactly, but it wasn't happening. I wouldn't let it.

I pressed the flannel shirt over my face and pretended I was dead. As dead as Edward A. Masen had been since the third or fourth week of September 1918. Until he'd showed up at Forks High.

**. . . . .**

I wasn't sure how long I'd been hiding in the woods, but the sounds of the rest of the school in the yard on lunch break woke me from my semi-unconscious state.

I sat up slowly, shaking off the half-drowsy, half-stunned aura that still flooded my brain and senses.

Along with the abject terror that was still coursing through my veins, I was suddenly completely and horribly embarrassed. I'd made an absolute ass of myself. First by acting like a total freak when Edward had introduced himself, and then when I'd seen his name—_that name_—on his registration papers.

I'd literally fled from class, and made a huge scene in the process. All because I'd seen a name on a piece of paper.

My head swum again at the idea of it. Not just any name—one of the names that I'd been staring at for weeks. Hoping, pretending, _sure_ it was his name.

_His name. _The irrational, irrevocably in-love part of my heart skipped a beat. _I knew his name. Finally._

I knew I wasn't hallucinating, but I wished that I was. I wished it were as simple as me going crazy. Instead, I had no explanation at all. And now, just when I needed even more of an explanation than ever before.

He was real. He was here. He was a hundred years old and had been probably dead for eighty years or more and now he was sitting in my biology class next to me. He was here. Just what I'd been begging from any god who would listen.

I took a deep breath and pressed my fists into my eyes until colors swirled in front of my eyelids. I couldn't think of anything anymore. I was sure my brain was broken.

The sound of a throat clearing made me drop by hands and look up.

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen—_him!_—was standing ten feet in front of me. Holding my backpack and smiling that crooked smile at me.

I fell over backward off of the log.

**. . . . .**

**A/N: So? Reviews are my muse!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: You guys are the best! I'm continually floored by your reviews, PMs and the number of hits each update gets. I know this chapter is short, but I'm short on time this week and wanted to be sure I got something up to reward you for all of your awesomeness._**

**. . . . .**

I thought I'd died. Of exactly what, I wasn't sure.

Of shock? Or maybe a brain aneurysm brought on by utter confusion. Definitely of embarrassment. First, I'd acted like a total idiot in class. And now, on my second chance to make a first impression, I'd outdone myself. I was laying in a pile of moldering leaves, my legs stuck up in the air bolstered by the mossy log I'd been sitting on.

I stared silently into the tops of the trees a hundred feet above me. Maybe he'd go away if I stayed quiet.

Just as that thought had come and gone, his perfect face loomed over me wearing a look of strangled confusion that I knew mirrored my own.

"Bella? Are you ok?"

That magical voice sent shivers up my spine and made goose bumps break out over my bare arms.

"Um… yeah. I was, uh, just…" I ran out of words and exhaled loudly in a frustrated gurgle. I couldn't meet his eyes.

He stretched his arms out to me, long fingers extended, hands palms up. My hands involuntarily reached for his. Our fingers tangled together and I inadvertently inhaled at the shock of his cold hands on mine.

In one swift, gentle movement, he'd pulled me back up to a sitting position on the log.

He backed up a bit to give me breathing room but stayed in front of me, close enough to touch. His nostrils flared slightly and he leaned forward slightly to close the distance between us. I stared at him dumbly, entranced by his perfect, luminous face and his amber eyes. I felt stunned. Trance-like.

"Are you sick?" His hand began to reach out to me again, then he pulled it back and it found a place against the thigh of his dark blue jeans.

I shook my head, partially to shake myself away from staring at him and partially to answer his question. Chances were good that I was mentally sick, but I knew I'd never be able to explain my actions without seeming crazier than I probably already did.

"You just ran out of class so quickly…"

He was hunting for answers now. But I stared at his shoes instead of speaking. I had no excuse. He picked up the slack for me, as if he were trying to ease my discomfort.

"…So after class, I told Mr. Banner that you weren't feeling well. He said he'd excuse your absence. Here. I brought your things. I hope it's ok that I put your book and folder in your bag. You left them on the desk."

He motioned to my bag on the ground next to him.

My heart sped up at his kind gesture.

And it sped again at his next words.

"The Spanish Influenza? Is that for a class project or something?"

My folder. _The_ folder. I'd left it on the desk when I'd fled. He'd had to pick it up to put it in my bag. Not only had I labeled it clearly on the front, 'Spanish Influenza' in thick black Sharpie, it held all of the items—the evidence—I'd compiled. The items, the evidence that possibly pointed to him as a reincarnated dead guy from 1918.

Words tumbled from my mouth without my permission.

"Yeah, it's my world history class report and presentation. It's due tomorrow. I'm way behind, so I was brushing up on some stuff before biology class. You know, facts and dates and stuff…"

My sudden burst of brain power stopped and I was stranded again.

He nodded, but his left eyebrow cocked the slightest bit. Was he challenging me? Had he looked in the folder? Had he seen the photos? The name list? Did he know my suspicions? Or was this just paranoia settling into my over-taxed brain?

I grew bolder. He either knew or he didn't know what I either knew or didn't know. Whether there was anything to know or not know was the thing I still hadn't figured out. Either way, I had nothing to lose.

"Why? Do you know much about the topic?"

My question seemed to startle him, and he took a half-step backwards before he stopped himself.

Then his lips curled up gently at the corners.

"Not really. Well, maybe some." He studied my eyes, then shrugged in a gesture that seemed forced. "That is to say, I know a little about the subject. From personal study."

I didn't miss the fact that his eyes didn't smile along with his lips. He suddenly took a sharp breath and stooped to pick up my bag.

"Ok, then. You look like you're feeling better. Should we head back to school? Lunch break is almost over."

I compliantly rose to my feet, and we walked back to Forks High in silence, this strange Edward and my backpack two steps ahead.

**. . . . .**

He walked me to Spanish class, handed me my bag and then quickly left me at the door after explaining that he had a study hall because he was fluent in Spanish and was therefore exempted from taking a foreign language.

I put that on my mental list of questions to ask him later and found my seat.

I exhaled fully for the first time since I'd opened my eyes to see him standing in the woods.

Senora Miller started the class, but I dug my folder—the folder—out of my backpack and dug in to the contents once again.

Spanish would have to wait—I had way too much to think about to worry about conjugating verbs.

I wracked my brain for answers, insights, anything I could glean from the morning's events.

I didn't know much, but I did know one thing. There was no way I could show that slideshow—complete with the photos of the doctor and the young man—with their doppelgangers in town. With Edward sitting in the front row.

And while I had secretly wished that the boy in the photo would be flattered by my effort to create a past for him, the remote possibility that Edward was related to—or was—him was enough to make me want to fake being sick in order to avoid giving my presentation.

My huge-part-of-my-grade presentation that I'd worked on for hours and hours.

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against my desk.

**. . . . .**

_Cold skin. Hard chest. That heavenly cologne. Edward. I breathed in deeply and burrowed my face closer against his chest. His arms tightened around me and he nuzzled against my hair, inhaling my scent._

The wind whistled through the crack at the bottom of my window and I sat up slowly, groggily.

I knew I'd shut the window before I'd fallen asleep, but a cool breeze was pushing in from the outside. The curtains fluttered and a few papers fell from my desk with the gust.

The shadows of my room seemed alive, and I felt goose bumps prickling along my spine.

Strangest of all, I could smell him. That sweet, soft, lingering scent that had invaded my dream. I took a deeper whiff, but lost the scent.

I was thirsty, so I pulled my robe over my camisole and boyshorts and tiptoed to the bathroom. On my way back into my room, I bent and picked up the papers that had blown from my desk to the floor.

My heart thudded when I realized what they were. My Spanish Flu research. Well, my research on the boy who had contracted the Spanish Flu. The photo printouts, the list of names. The papers that had been tucked safely in my folder and under my history book. I was sure of it.

Confused by sleep and strangeness, I balked. I picked up the papers, slowly studied the boy's face again. Then I put the papers back in the folder, which now lay open on the top of my desk. The goose bumps returned and I hurried to shut the window.

But it was already closed.

**. . . . .**


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving. Despite my best intentions, this didn't get posted over break. Hopefully this is worth the wait, though. The next chapter is half-done, so there should be less of a gap between this one and the next one,_**

**_Thanks for reading and for all of the great reviews and PMs you're writing. I'm so glad you're all along for the ride!_**

**. . . . .**

I couldn't sleep. My overloaded brain struggled under the weight of the day's events compounded by the strain of the last few weeks.

First, my irrational attachment to the boy in the photo. Then recognizing Dr. Cullen as the doctor by the boy's side. And, finally, realizing that the new kid in school just may be that long-dead photo subject that I'd fallen for. All of that added to the creepy fact that someone may just have been in my room—and possibly looking at my Spanish Flu research and the object of my obsession—had chased away any chance for more sleep.

I had made sure the window was locked and I now cowered against my headboard, the blankets pulled up to my chin.

Certainly I hadn't made it all up—had I? The window _had_ been shut when I went to bed, of that I was sure. It was too cold outside for me to have left it open. But it was open when I woke—the breeze was cold enough to wake me, and my papers had blown off of my desk. And then, as surprised as I had been to find it open, it was closed.

Closed but not locked.

That wasn't out of the ordinary for me, though, especially since I'd moved to Forks. I rarely latched it, being that my room was on the second floor and someone would have to be superhuman—or have the parkour skills of my best friend, Jake—to get in.

I'd been obsessive about locking it for a while, back in the spring when several hikers had disappeared over the course of a few weeks. Charlie had been paranoid enough that it had rubbed off on me, and I'd spent three months locking and testing every door and window in the house. But I'd gotten complacent after enough time had passed without any more reports of missing people.

And since I knew there were no superhumans in the neighborhood, and I was sure Jake would never sneak in and go through my homework in the middle of the night, it left only my paranoia to blame.

That still didn't settle my jumpy heart.

So I decided to make the best of a sleepless night. I crawled to the end of my bed, looked under it for good measure, and ventured over to retrieve the folder with my research.

I had some changes to make before my presentation the next day, and I still wasn't sure how I was going to subtract Edward Cullen's 100 year-old twin from my narrative.

**. . . . .**

I had dozed off sometime between my post-terror study session and the time the sun rose. I woke with a stiff neck and a vague sense that something had been wrong. It was only when I looked out my window to see if it was raining that I remembered the strangeness of the night before.

The window was still latched and I was still alive, though, so I decided not to mention the incident to Charlie. He'd either think I was crazy or make me move into his room.

Instead, I got ready for school, made a few final changes to my PowerPoint and dragged myself down the stairs for breakfast.

Charlie was sitting at the table, his steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, the Forks Tribune in his left.

"Morning, Bells."

I mumbled a reply and poured myself a mug of coffee with a heavy splash of milk.

Charlie's eyebrow rose. "Rough night?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of what I still wasn't sure was a problem. "I couldn't sleep and ended up studying for a while. Bad idea, I guess."

Charlie shook his head. "You should get a full scholarship to any college you want at this rate."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Not sure about that. So don't go spending my college fund on fishing supplies just yet, ok?"

"That's about all it will pay for at this interest rate," he chuckled as he stood up and checked the gun on his hip. "I've got to head out a little early. It frosted over night, so the roads are slippery. The station has been getting accident calls all morning. Be careful on your way to school. Drive slowly, and don't hit the brakes too suddenly."

I nodded and downed the last of my coffee. I loved my beast of a truck too much to take chances.

**. . . . .**

Charlie was right—the roads were slick. I passed a couple of cars in the ditch on my short drive to school, and I was almost late because I'd been driving so slowly.

The parking lot was full when I finally pulled in, and I was forced to park in the back corner, about six miles from the school by my measurement. I grumbled under my breath as I pulled my backpack and laptop bag out of the passenger seat. The last thing I needed was to have to walk across a slippery parking lot weighed down with five tons of books. I was clumsy enough walking on the best of surfaces on a sunny day.

The 10-minute warning bell rang, and I slammed my truck door and took a tentative step toward the school.

I unintentionally paused for a split second when I caught sight of Edward Cullen standing with a tiny dark haired girl and a blonde boy across the lot. He was looking straight at me. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my face flush. I dragged my eyes from his and hitched my laptop bag higher on my shoulder.

Just then, the sound of tires squealing announced a giant silver Jeep coming fast to my right. It swung wide around the corner, barely missing me and causing me to step back quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I lost my footing and fell flat backwards on to the parking lot. Of course.

I pinched my eyes shut and held my breath, expecting my head to hit the pavement. But the impact never came.

Instead, I was surprised by the sensation of someone cradling my head as the rest of me came to a sudden stop.

That soft, sweet scent wafted over me as it had in my dreams, and I looked up into Edward Cullen's amber eyes.

"Bella—are you ok?" He kept one hand under my head and used the other to gently press my shoulder to the pavement, his face a mask of worry. "Don't move. If you've injured your head or neck…"

I couldn't believe my luck. I just wasn't sure if it was good or bad. I tried to smile.

"No, I'm fine. Really. I just slipped."

I realized I was more stunned by nearness of him than the fall. I was trying to figure out how he'd gotten to me so quickly. "And you caught me…"

He didn't get a chance to respond.

Instead, the giant head of a burly guy I'd never seen before loomed into my field of vision. "Everything ok? We didn't mean to hit you. Honest." His hulking frame hovered over me, his face as worried as Edward's. "We didn't see you and the Jeep tires slipped. I was driving too fast for conditions. For being in a parking lot. I'm sorry…"

He looked up at Edward cautiously just as Edward lunged forward to pushed him out of the way, anger blazing in his eyes. "I've got this, Emmett."

I took advantage of the fact that his hands were off of me, and I started to sit up.

"Just stay there, Bella." Those cold hands pressed against my shoulders again, leaving me calm and dreamy feeling. I absorbed his words slowly, trance-like. "Just breathe. Everything will be ok."

I took a deep breath and started to lose myself in his eyes.

" Alice has called an ambulance. They'll be here in just a minute."

His words broke through my reverie.

"An ambulance? Oh, no. Please. Not an ambulance. I'm fine." I was pleading now, almost whining. I could tell my cheeks were blazing. I really didn't want to make a scene—I just wanted to go to class and pretend none of this had happened.

Well, none of it except maybe Edward's hands tight on my shoulders. I knew I'd dream about that for weeks.

Edward relented, his eyes softening. He stood and helped me to my feet just as the ambulance—sirens at full volume—turned the corner.

I turned beet red and put my head in my hands.

**. . . . .**

Edward had wanted to ride in the ambulance with me, but the EMT wouldn't allow him to. I was half-grateful for the rule and half-wishing the EMT would have let it slide just this once. I didn't want Edward to see me like this, to witness the awkwardness that was clumsy Bella, but I wanted more time with him. Even if that meant he had to see me at my most embarrassed.

Instead, I watched him fade slowly out of view through the back windows of the ambulance as I answered one hundred and fifty-one stupid questions about my head.

When they pulled up to the emergency bay, they insisted on wheeling me in on a gurney.

Mercifully, they hadn't turned on the sirens as we drove slowly to the hospital. But they had called Charlie. I took a deep breath and waited for Act Two to begin.

Strangely, he was calm when he met me inside the doors. Maybe because me ending up in the hospital was such a common occurrence. Over the years, I'd undergone a barrage of stitches, X-rays, checkups and other humiliating tests and procedures.

I was not merely a klutz, I was a very good one.

Like Edward, Charlie insisted on coming into the exam room with me.

I groaned. "Dad, really. Do you need to witness this? It will be like every other one of the 800 times I've been in here."

He chuckled under his breath and patted my arm.

A nurse buzzed around me, taking my blood pressure and my temperature, checking my eyes and ears, poking at my neck and back to see if anything hurt.

I sighed. "Only my pride."

Charlie chuckled louder. "Do you really have any left by now, Bells?"

I rolled my eyes at him and wished I had been knocked unconscious, if only to have missed out on this little father-daughter bonding moment.

The door swung open, and Dr. Cullen breezed in, stopping at the foot of my bed.

"Well, Miss Swan. We meet again."

I wasn't sure whether to smile or not, and I couldn't trust myself to meet his eyes, so I just blushed some more.

"You and Bella will have a long, close relationship over the years," Charlie commented, making Dr. Cullen smile and me burn hotter with embarrassment.

"From the size of her medical file, I can see that will probably be true." The doctor chortled, and I threw my hands up in the air.

"Seriously? I said I was fine. I just fell over, there wasn't even any blood. Did they insist on bringing me here just so everyone could make fun of me?" Tears of frustration prickled in my eyes, and I could feel my ears heating up. I knew I must be a bright red mess.

Dr. Cullen smiled kindly at my outburst, and reviewed my chart again. "Not at all, Bella. We just need to make sure you don't have any head or neck injuries. You took quite a spill out there, I hear."

I grumbled as he repeated what the nurse had just done. "I didn't even hit my head. Edward broke my fall."

"Edward? My son, Edward?" Dr. Cullen's eyes were on me in a different way, and I couldn't tell if he was amused or upset.

"Yeah. It was pretty strange, actually. He was talking with some other kids across the lot, and then this Jeep comes at me and the next thing I know he's keeping my head from bouncing off of the parking lot. I'd be in a lot worse shape if he hadn't gotten to me. However he got there…"

My words skidded to a stop as Dr. Cullen smiled at me patronizingly. "Well, you probably lost a little track of time in all of the drama."

I sighed, unable to come up with a response.

Once I'd followed his penlight back and forth and up and down until my head spun, he seemed satisfied.

"Ok, everything looks fine."

I shot Charlie a look, but refrained from telling him that I'd told him so.

"Dr. Cullen? Were you ever in Chicago?"

The words spilled from my mouth. I couldn't believe myself. Maybe I did have a head injury.

He looked at me sharply again, his eyes softening again so quickly that I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it. "Well, sure. Chicago is a great town."

"I mean, did you ever live there? Did you work there?"

The doctor looked at me, and then at Charlie, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

He turned back to me, obviously confused. "Yes. I did. But it was a long, long time ago. Certainly before you were born. Why, did you spend some time in a Chicago hospital?"

Charlie's barking laugh tore through the room and I hung my head.

"No. I—I just wondered…"

He wrote one more thing in my chart and smiled up at me again. "Just let us know if you have any neck pain, head aches, trouble sleeping or any hallucinations. Those could be signs of trauma, and we'd need to see you again immediately if you experienced any of those symptoms."

I watched his white-coated back exit the room.

_Hallucinations. Right. Except that would be just about normal for me these days. _I just nodded and vaguely wondered if it were possible that everything I'd gone through lately were just latent signs of head trauma from previous falls.

Charlie left so I could change back into my clothes. Once I'd tied my shoes, I stepped out of the room and headed toward the front desk to meet him. He'd agreed that I shouldn't go back to school today. I'd asked not because I was feeling sore, but simply because I didn't want to face the crowds and inevitable questions about how I was feeling and what had happened.

I heard voices in the hallway, but it was Edward's voice that caused me to pause.

He had come to the hospital to see me. I was touched and humiliated all at the same time.

I peeked around the corner, too frozen to step out from behind the wall.

The three of them were standing against a glass wall. The hulking guy who'd come to my rescue with Edward was standing back, arms folded and a half-smile on his face, while the supermodel blonde and Edward faced off.

"You were supposed to bump her truck, you imbeciles. Not her!" Edward's eyes were wild, his hushed whisper was bitter and bounced around the empty hallway.

The blonde stepped forward, her finger jabbing him in the chest. "Listen, Edward, we did what you asked. She's not in school, right?" She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and huffed an exasperated sigh. "We never should have helped you with your stupid little plan in the first place. You know how Carlisle feels about making a scene."

"Well you made a much bigger scene than you were supposed to," Edward shoved her pointed finger away from him and glared at the dark haired guy. "I asked you to dent the back of her truck, to tie her up with insurance information and apologies. I just wanted to keep her from making that presentation today, not kill her so she _never_ could."

As he spoke, the blonde's nostrils flared. Then, faster than I could blink, she and Edward turned toward me in unison.

**. . . . .**


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Whew! My promise to get this up soon was an empty one, it seems. So to celebrate the first day of Christmas vacation…_**

**. . . . .**

I pressed my back flat to the wall behind me in hopes that they didn't see me. But I knew that they had. I'd felt that familiar shiver in my spine when Edward's eyes had locked with mine.

Awesome, just what I needed. To be caught eavesdropping on the new kids. The new kids who had practically killed me in the parking lot, created a scene and sent me to the emergency room.

And who had apparently done so on purpose to keep me from going to class. At Edward's request.

My heart was pounding and my head reeling. Why on earth did Edward want to keep me from making my presentation? Unless…

I suddenly remembered the open window. The strewn papers. The proof that someone had been in my room. I felt cold. And I innately knew that he had been there.

He had gotten into my room, snooped around and found my research folder. He had seen his name, the photos—he knew whatever it was that I was supposed to surmise, supposed to know from that mishmash of historical documents and photocopies. He knew that my folder—and maybe my class presentation—contained material that could prove that he was… what?

Related to a dead guy? A dead-ringer for a dead man? Or—

"Bella?" His velvety voice and soft eyes startled me. He stepped around the corner, forcing a smile. "Are you ok? I didn't know you were out of the exam room."

I felt myself calming down, but it only made me angrier. I didn't know what was going on, but something wasn't right.

"I'm fine. No thanks to you and… them, I guess." I spit out the words, gesticulating wildly in the direction he had just come from, unable to look at him.

"Bella, what did you hear? You must have misunderstood—"

I cut him off, my face blazing with anger. "No, I don't think I did misunderstand. Whatever is going on here, it's not funny."

He reached for my arm, and I shook off his cold hand and wheeled around. I had to get away from him.

"Stay away from me. And my truck." I started running down the hallway. "And stay the hell out of my room!"

I barreled into Charlie just outside the emergency room exit.

"Hey there!" He steadied me as I tried to push past him. "What on earth is going on? Were you yelling at that boy? Was he the one that hit you?"

He started to step toward the door—toward Edward—but I ran past him to the police cruiser and collapsed into the front seat.

"Let's just go, Dad. Please."

He sighed and walked to the driver's side, folding himself into the front seat and slowly buckling his belt, all the while staring at me.

When we pulled away, Edward Cullen was watching me from behind the glass doors.

**. . . . .**

I waited until Charlie had gone back to work before getting up and flipping open my laptop. I didn't know what to look for, but there had to be some answers online.

I Googled frantically, not knowing what I was looking for and certainly not seeing it.

_100 year old teenager_

All I got were photos of Benjamin Button and weird links to anti-aging serums and porn. I tried again.

_Reincarnation_

_Reincarnated twins_

_ Reincarnated as yourself_

Each search inspired the next, and I started giggling at the ridiculous possibilities. What on earth did I think I was dealing with here, anyway? These were people, not monsters.

_Human cloning_

_ Cloning dead people_

I doubted there was any credence to the idea that Edward and Dr. Cullen were reincarnated or cloned versions of their 1918 selves, but the train of thought seemed to make more sense than anything else.

I kept typing words into the search engine.

_ Dead guy who really isn't dead_

_ Zombies_

I knew Edward wasn't a zombie, but the ageless factor intrigued me. I typed again.

_Never aging_

_ Man who never ages_

The first link on that search was to a site on the undead. Vampires. The description of the page caught my attention. The hair on my arms stood up slowly as I read. "Cold skin. Inhumanly fast. Eternally young. Sweet scent. Silent movements. Flawless appearance…"

I clicked through.

**. . . . .**

Charlie had insisted that I shouldn't cook, but all we had was lettuce and salad fixings. So he ordered pizza.

And whenever he ordered pizza, it meant that he also invited his best friend, Billy, and Billy's son and my best friend, Jacob, over to share. Even when he was worried about my non-existent brain injury.

I hadn't seen Jake in weeks. I'd been to distracted by the boy in the photo to hang out with the real people in my life. That was probably why, Jacob barreled through the door with extra gusto and swung me in a wide circle before Charlie could holler at him to stop.

"Why?" He put me down and looked me over to spot whatever injury I might be hiding.

"Bella was in a car accident today and we're supposed to be monitoring her for concussion-like symptoms. So no roughhousing. Her brain has had enough trauma today."

Jacob was suddenly serious, his over-protectiveness taking over his jovial mood.

"What happened? Are you ok?" He put one hand on top of my head. He tilted it backward and looked into my eyes.

I crossed them and stuck my tongue out at him.

"It was nothing. And it wasn't even an actual car accident." I glared at Charlie. _Thanks for making something out of nothing, Dad._ "I was just standing too close to a moving vehicle in the parking lot at school and fell over."

Charlie shook his head. "Those new kids almost killed her bombing around the parking lot. I should have given them a ticket for reckless driving."

I stared at him and rolled my eyes. "He's overreacting," I turned to Jacob.

"New kids?" Jacob was derailed by the thought. "What new kids?"

Billy broke in to the conversation. "The Cullens. We talked about them last week at Tribal Council, remember?" His tone was flat, but his eyes were flashing.

Jacob suddenly pulled himself to his full height and took a step toward me. His hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Bella, stay away from them. They're no good."

"No good? What are you talking about? You've never even met them. And why were you talking about them at Tribal Council?"

A new family moving to Forks was hardly something the tribe should be interested in. They didn't even really live in Forks, and very few people ever ventured out to La Push or the reservation, except to visit the beach.

"We just did. And I don't have to have met them to know they're no good." Jacob pulled me closer to him. "Just promise me you'll stay away from them, Bella."

I pulled away and gave him a playful shove.

"Ok, weirdo. Jeez. I'll just tell all of my teachers that I have to drop the classes I have with Edward because my ox of a best friend told me he's bad news."

I giggled, but Jake was having none of it. He was unusually serious, and it made me nervous. Did he know something? Something I should know?

I had thought about telling him about Edward and his uncanny resemblance to the boy in the photo, but I'd seen Jake's bodyguard side in action when Mike Newton had stalked me the first six months I'd lived in Forks. Besides, something about Edward told me he was special. And that Jacob would be overprotective enough without me fanning the flames and suggesting there was something mysterious about Edward.

Jake and I were just friends, but it was obvious to everyone that he vacillated between loving me as a friend and liking me too much for my comfort. I knew that he'd willingly go with me if I crossed the line of friendship.

I had never dated anyone, or even shown a hint of liking anyone like that, and I was afraid to find out how it would affect Jacob and our friendship when that day inevitably came.

The doorbell rang, and the pizza boy mercifully delivered a distraction that turned around the tense mood. Soon, Charlie and Billy were yelling and cheering at the Mariners game. Jake and I moseyed up the stairs to my room.

We'd barely reached the top of the stairs when Jacob's arm shot out and stopped me in my tracks. His nose flared, and he handed me the pizza box without looking at me.

"Stay here."

"What are you doing?" I stepped forward to catch him, and he wheeled around to face me.

"I said _stay here_."

I took a step back, confused. Jake never took a tone with me.

He opened the door to my room and shut it behind him. I heard him open and close my closet door, pace around my room, open the closet again. He thumped around, and it sounded like he was looking under my bed.

Finally, he stuck his head out the door and stared at me, deadly serious.

"Have you made friends with these Cullens?"

"What? No—I've hardly met them. Why?"

"You haven't invited any of them over?"

"No."

"So, none of them have been in your room?"

I balked. I didn't know the answer to that question. Not really, anyway.

"No…"

"Bells." Jake sensed my hesitancy and he was deadly serious now. "Tell me. Have you invited any of them up to your room?"

"I haven't invited them. I just… I think that one of them might have been here, though."

Before I knew what was happening, Jacob had pulled me into my room, pushed me down on the bed and was kneeling in front of me. His eyes were focused on me, his body shaking.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jake, stop. You're scaring me."

"You need to tell me right now. Everything."

I balked at him, looking to the window, then to the floor. He grabbed my knees with his huge hands and shook me back to reality. "Bells. Now. Spill."

I sighed. I had really wanted to avoid this.

"I—I woke up last night and my window was open. I think someone was in here looking at my school papers."

"Your school papers?" He had visibly relaxed, and he started to smile. "Why do you think one of the Cullens was in your room? Are they that big of nerds that they're breaking and entering to cheat off of you? I mean, you're a good student and all, but seriously."

"Because I have some evidence on Edward and I think they tried to run me over to keep me from telling anyone."

The accusation flew from my lips and Jacob's guffawing cut short. I had just wanted to stop him from making fun of me, but the fire in his eyes told me I'd started a war. I should have let him laugh.

He rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists, his muscles flexing through the thin fabric of his black tee-shirt. His body shook violently, and I jumped off of the bed and wrapped my arms around him.

"Jake, it's ok. I'm fine. Nothing happened. I was just a little creeped out, that's all."

I patted his back lightly, rubbing in circles like he did so often to calm me down. "Jake. Just breathe."

He took a deep breath and the shaking slowed. He grabbed me gently by the shoulders and pushed me a step backward so he could look me in the eye.

"You need to tell me everything."

"Jake, it's really not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?" He leaned in. "_Not that big of a deal? _Bells. They tried to run you over to keep you from exposing them? How is that not a big deal?"

"It's… that's probably sounds more malicious than it actually was. I think they were just trying to bump my truck."

Jacob sighed deeply, then pulled me down to sit on my bed. I sat cross-legged facing him.

"Go. Talk. And it had better be the whole story."

I reached over to my nightstand and pulled the folder from under a book. I opened it and set it on the duvet cover in front of Jacob.

He looked at me, then at the stack of paper.

He picked up the folder, flipping through it.

"What is all of this?"

"Research. For an American History report."

He paused when he came to the photos.

"Where did you get these?"

"The internet."

"Why do they look so old?"

"Because they are. They were taken by a professional photographer in Chicago in 1918."

He looked up at me. He didn't look all that surprised.

"And I found Edward's name on a list of people who died in September 1918."

Still, he looked unfazed. I was sure he wasn't understanding what I was hinting at.

"I was assigned to do a report on the Spanish Influenza. I found a photo of this guy in a book, and I… I thought he was… attractive. So I printed out the photo and thought I'd write my report about him. You know, like, his story. To personalize the report. I tried to dig up some more information on him, but all I could get was a list of young men about his age who died in this hospital around the time the photos were taken. And then, the Cullens showed up in school. And Edward looks exactly like the guy in the photo. And his name—at least his first and middle names—are on the list of victims. And then I discover that the new doctor at Forks Hospital is the doctor treating him in this photo. They're here. Or at least something like that. I'm not sure what's going on. And then last night, my window is mysteriously open and my research is all over the floor. Like someone was here looking at it. And when I get to school, his brother almost hits me with his Jeep, and I go to the hospital and I hear them arguing and they're mad at Edward for telling them to hit my car and keep me from going to class to give my report. And then they see me in the hallway listening to them and Edward tries to tell me I misunderstood—"

My rambling embarrassed me and I stopped short. But Jacob was focused and serious.

"What do you think is going on?"

"What?"

"What do you think is going on? You must have some kind of hunch. Some ideas. I want to hear them."

I was completely confused.

"It doesn't matter. Besides, I've exhausted all of my ideas. And they're all dumb anyway."

Jacob stared silently at me. I felt compelled to talk.

"Fine. Just don't laugh at me. I've considered… zombies. Reincarnation. A time machine. That there is a god, and that he felt badly for killing them so young so he gave them another chance. Human cloning. A weird disorder that causes them not to age. The fountain of youth is real and the doctor knew about it and kept Edward from dying. "I wasn't going to mention the last one, but of all the ideas I'd had, it seemed most plausible. And the most disturbing. "And—and vampires."

I burned with embarrassment. I knew Jake loved me unconditionally, and he'd put up with a lot from me throughout the years with no complaint, but I was worried he'd think I had finally lost it.

Instead, he reached out and took my hands in his.

"How do you feel about that. That last one?"

"Feel about it? Jeez, Jake. I don't feel very good about any of this. It's just too weird. I don't really believe in vampires. But it seems to fit. At least, according to the internet."

Jake's grin surfaced and I kept talking, eager to prove my point.

"Quiet, perfect. Fast. Cold hands."

"Woah, woah. Cold hands? How do you know his hands are cold? I thought you said you didn't really know him? Why is he touching you?"

"He saved me in the parking lot. He kept me from getting hurt. He caught me. And his hands were cold."

"But you were outside and it was icy. Of course his hands were cold."

"He shook my hand in class. And… I dreamed about him. His hands were cold in my dream."

"Oh, god, Bells. I do not want to know about that." He put his hands up over his ears. I reached out and pulled at his arms.

"No, it's not like that. I mean, I just… I don't know. It's just the only one that fits. But I know vampires aren't real. Monsters aren't real."

I repeated what my mother and Charlie had told me since I was a little girl afraid of whatever I thought was hiding in my closet. Now, the possibility of a real, live monster hiding in my closet was more than I could bear.

Jake took a deep breath and paused, like he was on the verge of saying something he shouldn't.

"Jacob?" Billy's voice boomed up the stairs, startling both of us. "Let's go. Time to get this old man to bed."

Jake stood up and moved toward the door. He seemed relieved to have an out.

"Jake? I'm afraid. Please. Can you—come back later? I… I don't want to sleep in the dark by myself."

Jacob smiled and nodded. "Leave the window open a crack."

"Actually, can you just toss up a rock or something when you get here? I'd rather not leave it open. You know… vampires?"

He grinned and ruffled my hair. "You have no need to be afraid. Not when I'm around."

**. . . . .**

**_A/N: Hey! Did anyone see that coming? So now she knows—or something like that. Let me know what you think! I'm excited to hear your reactions to this chapter. Don't be shy!_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**School is seriously killing me. No one ever tells you your senior year is this wildly busy… so my apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. The good news is, this is a bigger chapter than normal, and I should be ready to post another next week. Yea, progress!**_

_**One more little note to set your minds at ease: I don't want to give anything away, but this is not going to be a Jacob/Bella fic. I've planned it and marked it ExB, and that's the way it will stay. I do admit to having a big weakness for Jake (and his triceps), and I have written a JxB story in the past, but that's not where this is going. So don't panic. I'm simply using him (much like Bella and Stephenie Meyer, I guess) as a vehicle for Bella to find out more about Edward and the rest of the Cullens.**_

**. . . . .**

I must not have heard the stones against my window. But Jake's gentle, persistent knocking did the trick. I groggily opened my eyes, a tinge of terror striking my heart until I saw his hulking shadow through my window, framed in the moonlight.

To anyone else, the dark form of a giant man blocking out the entire night sky would have been the furthest thing from reassuring, but to me, it was the most beautiful sight I could imagine.

I toddled over to him, opened the window and watched him lithely slip in. I latched the window behind him and closed the shade.

Wordlessly, I crawled back into bed, tucking the covers tightly around me. Jake settled in beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin through the comforter and three blankets that separated us.

The rest of the night passed in fits of groggy wakefulness and strange dreams. Vampires in the form of Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise (was that a movie?), a silent film reel of a black and white woman being dipped and sucked dry by a dashing man in a tux with tails. Blood in rivulets and then rivers flowing from throats, down torsos, pooling on the floor. Edward's glorious face—now and in the photograph.

The dreams didn't give me answers. But they did give me clarity. The contrast between Edward's perfect beauty and the ugly goriness told my heart what my mind could not. He may be a mystery, but he was most certainly not a monster.

The glowing red numbers on my alarm clock read 4:26 when I turned over and nuzzled my forehead against the warm muscles of Jake's broad shoulder. "I'm not scared of him, you know. No matter what he is."

Jake's soft breathing stopped for a moment, and he turned over on his side to face me.

"You should be."

"I know. I mean, I think I know. I feel that, somehow. That I should be terrified. But I can't be afraid of him. He's… he's too—too something. Too good? Maybe just too perfect to be bad."

Jake sighed stared into my eyes. "Bells, sometimes perfect is a sign that something's not quite right." His voice was raspy with sleep. "Like, sometimes it's a mask to hide something very not perfect underneath."

"What do you know, Jake?" I sat up, suddenly awake and more alert than I'd been in days. Maybe since I'd fallen under the spell of the boy in the photo.

He sat up, too, reaching for me until I pushed him away, frustrated by his avoidance. We were best friends. We told each other everything, and I wasn't used to him holding back on me.

"Please. What do you know? Something's off. You're acting all wrong."

His eyes looked past me, focusing on some distant point over my left shoulder.

He shook his head at me, but wouldn't meet my eyes. "I can't say."

I struck out at him with the pillow from his side of the tiny bed, glancing it off of his shoulder and sending it tumbling to the floor.

He smiled a sad, half-smile at me.

"I want to tell you. I do. But I can't. It's not mine to tell."

"Jaaake—" I whined a little, hoping to sway him.

"Bells, I just can't. Don't ask me to."

He bit his lip, and I held my breath through the pregnant silence, hoping he'd change his mind.

"But I can tell you that monsters do exist. We're…" he sighed again, heavily, and collected his thoughts. "They're just not all created equal."

**. . . . .**

Morning struck a low blow after a night of interrupted sleep, and the sun's rays sent me blindly grabbing for my extra pillow to hide my eyes.

Instead, I found a half-empty bed. I remembered Jake and our strange middle-of-the-night conversation.

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Our exchange was foggy, but I remembered Jake warning me to be afraid of Edward. And monsters.

That boy. I had long worried that he'd take it badly whenever I fell for someone. Not that I had fallen for Edward, I was quick to remind myself. But still, there was something there. Lots of somethings there—intrigue, longing, confusion, attraction. Definitely attraction.

But not fear.

Ok, maybe a glimpse of it when I'd read the terrifying list of things on the websites I'd visited. And maybe a tingle of fear when I'd first said the word—vampire—that seemed to fit everything about him that was perplexing me, as disturbing and unreal of a thought as it was. And perhaps even a bristle of terror when Jacob hadn't refuted my suggestion, but had almost seemed to go along with it. Still, I knew I wasn't afraid of Edward. I couldn't be. Not with those kind eyes. Whatever this was, it was definitely something other than fear.

I couldn't explain the pull I felt toward him, and I definitely couldn't explain the possible breaking and entering or the near collision in the parking lot. But I knew I had to try to figure out what my heart was telling me.

But while I didn't know exactly how I felt about Edward, the one thing I did know was that Jacob wouldn't approve of anything between me and Edward unless it was utter rejection of him on my part.

**. . . . .**

I'd dallied in bed so long that I was running late, which wasn't unusual for me.

I parked my truck in the school lot and looked both ways before stepping out to cross the pavement. I unconsciously searched for the Cullens' Jeep before I realized what I was doing. Whether I was looking for them or simply wanted to avoid a second collision in two days, I wasn't sure.

I waved to a few friendly faces, skirted behind a gaggle of awkward freshman to hide from Mike, dropped my bag in my locker and took a gulp of air to calm my head before heading off to biology. Where I knew Edward Cullen would probably be waiting. Unless, that is, my tirade at the emergency room yesterday had scared him off.

I entered the formaldehyde-scented room and saw that I'd have no such luck.

Edward was sitting in his place, right next to my chair. A small white bag was resting on the desk directly in front of my seat.

I paused by Eric Yorkie's desk to ask him about an article I'd promised to write for the yearbook (or perhaps to waste a little time before the final bell), and then pushed forward to my seat. In one smooth and coordinated-for-me movement, I slid into my chair and used my biology book to push the white bag out of the way and toward Edward—the direction from which I was sure it had originated.

I saw the flicker of a smile glance across his lips, and I had to focus on my righteous indignation in order to keep from smiling myself.

_Trying to curry my favor with gifts? After attempting to dent my car and practically getting me run over, there had better be a whole lot of expensive something in that baggie._

I fought the urge to look at him. I had to punish him in some small way for his behavior the day before. So instead of responding to his advances, I opened my book and pretended to review the chapter for the pop quiz that we were usually assaulted with first thing in the morning.

Again, luck wasn't with me.

Mr. Banner cleared his throat and waited for our attention. "Class—we're going to skip the usual quiz over the chapter and get started with our in-class assignment. I trust you've all read the chapter I assigned yesterday. It will help you greatly with today's lab."

A few kids groaned; a couple more seemed strangely confused by the news that there was a quiz to skip. Mr. Banner ignored the rustling and continued on.

"We're going to be breaking into your assigned lab partner pairs and identifying cellular structure using microscopes."

This time, I groaned. I'd been lucky enough to not have a lab partner—at least back when there was an uneven number of students in the class. With the addition of Edward Cullen, there was now an even number of us. And there was no escaping the fact that I'd be paired up with him. Not only would I have to probably pull his weight on our labs, I had to work in tandem with the boy who'd conspired to hurt my beloved truck and possibly rifled through my room and my private papers. And the boy with whose past self I very well may have fallen in love.

As I groaned, he chuckled. I glared at him, unable to keep from looking in his direction.

He was so beautiful, he took my breath away. Even though I was still confused and angry enough I could have spit at him, his ethereal skin made my heart beat faster and my stomach flutter. I couldn't decide if I wanted to kick him or kiss him. I blushed at the thought of my lips pressing against his.

Just then, my fluttering stomach rumbled. I blushed even deeper, recalling that I hadn't had time to eat breakfast after lazing in bed ruminating over my feelings about him.

Edward turned to me then, his eyes smiling even though he was trying to keep his lips from following suit. He held the small white parcel out to me.

"You really should eat breakfast, Bella Swan. It is the most important meal of the day, after all."

I was too swept up in his brilliant amber eyes to do anything other than his bidding. I took the bag. Begrudgingly, I opened the carefully folded top, never taking my eyes from his.

A heavenly scent wafted from the bag, and I peered down to look inside.

A beautiful, lightly browned pastry peeked out at me.

"Your stomach was rumbling yesterday, so I figured you weren't much for eating before school. My mother was making these to take into the hospital for the nurses, so I thought I'd bring one for you. It's a recipe she learned at a cooking school in France years ago."

I was speechless.

I was touched and irritated at the same time. What was with this guy?

First, he terrifies me in school and then stalks me into the woods. Then he—possibly—breaks and enters and digs through my personal papers in the middle of the night. Then he tries to assassinate me (or my truck. But close enough.). Now he brings me homemade French pastries.

Hunger and gratefulness won out. I smiled ruefully at him and nodded at the small package.

"Thank you."

Mr. Banner suddenly appeared in front of our table, his eyebrows raised accusingly.

"Perhaps you two would like to get started on the lab?"

I nodded, fumbling with the bag in my hands.

"And Bella, be a good example for our new student." Mr. Banner nodded at me meaningfully. "You know there's no eating in the lab for safety and cleanliness reasons."

I smiled guiltily at him, folding over the top of the bag and putting it away in my backpack while he watched.

Edward snorted quietly as the teacher receded from our table. The sound seemed so out of character for his proper self that it broke the ice. I pushed him lightly with both hands, giggling in spite of myself.

"Maybe you should just try to identify some cells there, Mr. Cullen." I tapped at the microscope between us with my pen and looked down my nose at him, mocking.

He winked at me, sending a shower of sparks flying in my stomach.

"The first one is anaphase. I'm so good at identifying cells, I don't even need the microscope, Miss Swan." He crossed his arms and pushed the microscope back toward me. "So maybe you should give it a go. You know, just to practice. There will be a test on this later."

His fake-stern voice and arched eyebrow got the best of me and I giggled louder, embarrassing myself. But for some reason, I suddenly didn't care.

**. . . . .**

The bell rang for lunch, and I packed up my Spanish book and notebook. Fighting my way through the swarm of students in the hallway, I made my way to my locker. Jessica was digging in her locker, just two down from mine.

She turned toward me, a sly smile on her face.

"So, you didn't tell me you had a thing for one of the new kids."

I stared straight ahead. This wasn't really a conversation I wanted to have with Jessica. She was a pretty good friend, for the most part. But I knew about her competitive streak when it came to boys, and I'd seen how things could get ugly if she felt like she was being out-gamed. I'd seen it happen with other girls at the school, and I didn't want to start something with her over what was potentially nothing with Edward.

I decided to play dumb.

"That's because I don't." I turned look at her, hoping that my feigned innocence was believable. I wasn't much of an actress.

"Um, whatever, Miss Thing. I saw you and Edward Cullen practically making out in biology. And did he bring you breakfast?" Her hand popped up to her hip, and she cocked her head at me.

I shrugged and shook my head.

"We share a table and we were assigned to be lab partners. I can't help that. And we kind of had to talk to do the assignment. What do you expect me to do, be rude to him?"

"No, but you were giggling and falling all over him. It was just a little gross, that's all." She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair behind her. "I mean, you're not usually the slutty type, and it doesn't really look good on you."

"Seriously, Jess? You're going to get all catty about this? I thought we were friends." I stared at her until she squirmed and broke eye contact. I wasn't letting her get away with acting like this. "You know I'm not really the slutty type. Besides, jealousy doesn't exactly look good on you."

She took a step backwards and dropped her hand from her hip.

"I mean, do whatever you want. Just don't be surprised if he asks me to prom. Not to be mean or anything, but you don't seem like his type.…" Her eyes looked past me and her face brightened as the bitchiness suddenly receded.

I felt him standing next to me, but I couldn't look at him. Jessica kept talking.

"Oh, hi Edward. I was just telling Bella how nice it is that she's making friends with the new kids. She isn't super popular, so it's good that she can branch out a little, you know?"

She giggled and tossed her hair. _Bitch._

Edward just stared at her. Then he turned to me. "Want to sit with us at lunch? I told my sister Alice that I'd introduce you two. She's been dying to meet you."

Jessica huffed and spun on her heel at his wordless dismissal. Edward stayed focused on my face as if he hadn't even noticed she'd been there.

"Uh, ok," I stuttered, not sure what to do. I was intimidated by the thought of meeting his siblings, but there was no way I was going to sit at my normal lunch table after Jessica's little display.

Edward smiled down at me and pushed my locker closed, his arm reaching out past my shoulder. I awkwardly turned to face him, but realized I was trapped between his body and my locker. A nervous giggle escaped my lips, and the corner of his mouth curled up. I watched his lips part in what felt like slow motion.

"You smell nice."

He closed his lips quickly as if to stop the words, but he was too late. Then he turned and started to walk toward the cafeteria. I stayed pressed against my locker, still a little stunned. He looked back over his shoulder when he realized I wasn't beside him.

"Aren't you coming?"

I took a deep breath and caught up to him. I was hyper-aware of his presence, and of the stares of other students. I felt even clumsier next to his fluid movements and statuesque presence, and I knew I probably looked like a mess next to his perfection. He didn't seem to notice the stares, instead, he strode confidently toward the cafeteria.

He opened the cafeteria door, motioning for me to go ahead. I started to pick up a lunch tray, but he caught it and took it easily from my grasp. "Can I buy you lunch?"

My heart skipped a beat and I blushed at how ridiculously enamored I was. Less than 24 hours ago, I was threatening him in the hospital hallway. Now, I was swooning like a girl on the cover of a Harlequin romance novel. It was just lunch, but it felt like the most romantic dinner date I could imagine. I fumbled for words.

"Sure. I, um, I usually just have a salad. You know, mystery meat and all." I wrinkled my nose and shrugged.

He laughed and escorted me to the salad bar.

"Yeah, my family and I pretty much only eat free range meat." He smiled like it was some kind of private joke. "So we aren't much for eating in the cafeteria, either."

We both piled up salads in our bowls, and he paid the cashier.

Then he motioned to me to follow him and headed to the table by the windows where his brothers and sisters were sitting.

The tiny, spiky-haired girl I'd seen him with on the day of my accident bounded out of her chair and slammed into me with a big hug.

"Hi! I'm Alice. I've been so eager to meet you!" She held my hand in between her palms and hopped up and down three times.

Edward shot her a look, and she smiled sunnily at him. "Just making her feel welcome. You know I'm the only sister of yours who is liable to…" Her gaze settled on the stunning blonde at the corner of the table. She was staring unblinkingly at Edward as if she wanted to strangle him—or worse.

Edward shook his head.

"Bella, this Alice, Jasper, Emmett and Miss Sunshine herself, Rosalie."

The two boys, both already standing politely, reached for my hand simultaneously as Rosalie pushed her chair back and stood between them. She crossed her arms slowly, glaring at me, and ran her tongue over her teeth underneath her tightly closed lips.

She blew a frustrated huff of air out of her nose and turned on her spike heel. Gathering up her expensive-looking purse, she stalked away from the table without looking back.

Edward looked at the giant guy he'd introduced as Emmett, who grinned and shrugged at him. "But she's a wildcat in the sack."

I stared, agape. Weren't they siblings?

Edward just chuckled and shook his head. He turned to me and shook his head. "Just ignore her. We all do. Well, all except for Emmett."

He winked and Emmett's booming laugh filled the cafeteria.

"So, um, are you guys not really related?" I finally found my voice.

Edward stared at me for a second before chuckling again. Emmett's laugh thundered through the cafeteria. Even Alice and Jasper joined in.

"No, silly," Alice patted my arm. "We're all foster kids. Dr. Cullen and his wife, Esme, took us all in when we were already teenagers. Since then, Rose and Emmett got together, and I'm with Jasper. But it's all legal, I promise."

Her tinkling laughter put me at ease, as did the explanation and I giggled along with the group.

The rest of lunch flew by, and I headed off to English class, Edward stopping by my locker with me and toting my books to class.

His desk was one row over and two seats in front of mine, which offered me the perfect vantage point from which to watch his profile. I studied the wild angles of his hair, the straight plane of his nose, the square bend of his jaw that led down to his adorably dimpled chin. I watched his shoulders rise and fall, his long fingers hold his textbook and tap a light rhythm against the edge of the desk.

I eased open my folder of research and peeked behind the first benign piece of paper to one of the photographs I'd studied for so long. I compared the dying boy to the one sitting in my class. The similarities were more than eerie. They were dead-on.

My conversation with Jacob echoed in my head. "…_Sometimes perfect is a sign that something's not quite right… sometimes it's a mask to hide something very not perfect underneath."_

Edward's sudden friendliness and welcoming attitude were in stark contrast to the day before, when he'd apparently asked his brothers and sisters to create a diversion to keep me from class. And I couldn't even think about the dichotomy between his behavior now and that of visiting—and rifling through—my bedroom uninvited and in the middle of the night.

Something was off, and I had to find out what was going on before I fell even harder for the real Edward Cullen.

**. . . . .**


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Your PMs and reviews were so amazing that I stayed up way too late last night to finish this :)**_

_**Thanks so much for following and reading and reviewing! It means so much to me that you all are enjoying my little story.**_

_**In this chapter: more of the Jess we all love to hate, vampire Bella and a wee bit o' trouble for Miss Swan... please let me know what you think!**_

**. . . . .**

That night, I dreamed of him again. Only this time, the rest of the Cullens were there. Alice, Jasper, Emmett, even Rosalie, Dr. Cullen and a faceless Mrs. Cullen. I was with them, running. Laughing. Holding hands with Edward as we leaped impossibly far distances and ran for what seemed like forever through the endless Northwestern forests.

His hand was no longer cold; and for a reason I couldn't ascertain, I no longer felt like myself.

I wasn't stumbling, I didn't fall. Not once did my dream-self hesitate. I was lithe, agile and coordinated. I was finally beautiful.

Edward pulled me gently to the left and faster than I could blink, we'd scaled a towering tree. Cradled by the long branches, we hid just out of sight of his family as they played a speeded-up version of tag below. Edward's hands brushed over my shoulders, down my arms, around my waist. His smooth jaw, full lips closed in on me and I felt the perfection of his kiss down to my toes.

My hands knotted in his hair and his kisses trailed down my neck. I giggled and pulled free of him. Teasing, I climbed higher and he followed, laughing and pretending to not be able to reach me. His eyes shone with an intense love that made my heart hurt in the best of ways.

As we climbed higher, the sun glanced off of my arm and a rainbow of dancing light exploded into my field of vision. I paused and stared at the patch of glittering flesh. I was rapt with a beautiful confusion, and my pause gave Edward a chance to catch me off-guard. He brought his fearless feet toe-to-toe with mine on the thin branch and leaned his head down to kiss me. The shaft of light spilled over his face, and I was spellbound by the same magical glitter of microscopic diamonds across his cheek.

His crooked smile grew and he kissed me open-eyed, his soft amber eyes meeting mine as I watched the kaleidoscope of color shift across his flawless face.

I woke to find the sun streaming in my window. My heart thudded in my chest as if I had really been running, and my lips ached for Edward's. A freedom and lightness that I couldn't explain filled my soul.

It was all so beautiful that I had to close my eyes and try to summon the image one more time.

**. . . . .**

The history presentations entered day three. I was too busy trying to stare at Edward without obviously staring to hear any of Eric's speech on whatever it was that he was talking about. I was sure I'd regret my inattention when we were quizzed over the information from the presentations, but the maze of Edward's hair was so fascinating that I couldn't bring myself to care in the moment.

Just as I was worried that someone would see me, Edward turned his head too quickly for me to look away. Instead, I was caught blushing as he flashed his brilliant smile at me. He slowly closed his left eye and opened it again in a painfully sexy wink before looking back to the front of the room.

Jessica squeaked next to me, and I felt my entire body go red.

She maniacally slapped my arm from across the aisle, and I took a deep breath before turning to look at her in an attempt to keep myself from going into cardiac arrest. I was worried she was going to make a big scene about Edward winking at me. But my worry was misplaced. Of course.

"Ohmygod! Edward Cullen just totally winked at me!"

Her high-pitched whisper carried embarrassingly well, and several other kids turned took at us. I just stared at her with my mouth half-open. I didn't know how to respond. Was she serious?

"Did you see him? Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod!"

Her feet pounded the floor in a spastic running motion. I looked away, embarrassed for her. Embarrassed for me. I caught Edward's profile in the corner of my vision. It looked like he was laughing; his shoulders were shaking slightly and his head was in between his hands. I willed myself to disappear.

Jessica smacked me again.

"Bella! Didn't you hear me? What do you think that means? Do you think he's finally going to ask me to prom? Ohmygod. I cannot believe is happening to me. I mean, I totally knew it was going to happen, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon… I totally have to go dress shopping. Are you—"

Mr. Randall turned from his perch on the counter on the other side of the room.

"Jessica. Are you having some kind of problem?"

She hiccupped and stopped mid-sentence. "No, of course not. Bella was just asking me a question about Eric's presentation."

I put my forehead down on my desk and sighed. Mr. Randall cleared his throat and told Eric to go ahead. I stayed motionless until the bell rang, hoping Jessica would forget I was there. The one-sided conversation she'd started was not one I wanted to listen to her continue.

As I was stuffing my notes into my book, Mr. Randall called out to me. "Bella, will you and Edward please stay for a moment after class?"

I tentatively looked to where Edward had been sitting, only to find him already headed in my direction. He smiled at me and changed directions, turning neatly on his heel without breaking eye contact. I couldn't help but grin at his antics.

I met him at the desk, half-expecting Mr. Randall was going to ask me why I'd been staring at Edward all class. It was shaping up to be that kind of day.

What he actually said was somehow worse.

"Bella, as you know, I'd rearranged the presentation schedule due to your little accident the other day. Jamie volunteered to present instead of you, so you'll be filling her intended spot next Tuesday."

I nodded. That made sense, and I was grateful for the extra time to make sure I'd worked out the kinks that Edward's mysterious appearance had thrown into my presentation.

"However, if you don't mind, I'm going to make one small request," Mr. Randall continued. "Edward here wasn't given this assignment since he joined our class so late in the semester. It didn't seem fair to assign him such a large paper and presentation with such little notice. Nevertheless, I'd like to give him a chance to practice his public speaking skills. I'm hoping that maybe you can help us out."

"Me?" I looked to Edward. If he had any answers, he certainly wasn't sharing them with me.

"Yes. I'd like to have him team up with you to present the report on the Spanish Influenza. Now, I'm not expecting you to have done all of the work. I'd like you to share with him what you've learned during your research and give him a chance to put together a small addition to your presentation. You can team up and put in a few items for him to share, or he can add a small section within or after your presentation."

I fumbled for a response, acutely aware that I probably looked like a fish gasping for air.

Mr. Randall smiled as if he took my non-response as an affirmative. "I knew you'd be able to help out, Bella. You have the highest grade in the class, and this seems like the fairest way to even the playing field. After all, you did have an extra week to plan your presentation."

I nodded dumbly, unable to look at my new presentation partner.

"Ok, that's all. Thank you both. I'm sure you'll be able to work something out in no time."

Mr. Randall closed his book and motioned toward the door. I stumbled out without speaking to Edward. Was it too much to ask to be transported back to my dream world where I glittered and ran and climbed and kissed Edward, and where there were no history reports to get in the way of my happiness?

I headed to the bathroom instead of my locker. Choosing the large stall at the end, I pressed my head against the cool tile wall and took a few deep breaths.

Could this day get any worse?

**. . . . .**

Now I was more nervous than ever about my report. I had a plan before. I had taken out the slides of Edward's and Dr. Cullen's lookalikes and replaced them with a few photos from hospitals not anywhere close to the one in which Edward's doppelganger was photographed. I was even ready to present my story. I was just going to read it as I'd written it, show my PowerPoint and sit down. I wasn't going to make eye contact with Edward, I wasn't going to accuse him of anything. I was going to ignore my suspicions, get my presentation over with, pack up the photo and name list, put it at the bottom of my stack of journals in my locked trunk and never think about it again.

I was going back to living my life the way I had before I'd fallen in love with a dead guy. I was maybe even going to make a play for the real, live guy that had started to steal my affections away from said dead guy.

But now, thanks to Mr. Randall's overactive sense of fairness, I had to share my presentation with that real, live guy. And somehow that made me nervous that he was going to see right through me and discover my suspicions, no matter how cautious I was.

I stalked into the library and spotted an empty table. Sitting down at the end spot, I lay down my American History folder and put my head in my hands. I needed a breather before digging through my presentation notes and looking for places where Edward could fill in some gaps.

"Can I sit here?" Jessica interrupted my reverie.

"Sure. I'm just thinking about my history report." I closed my eyes again and heard her open a book.

But then my bad luck kicked in and she started chatting in a low whisper.

"Can you believe that Edward Cullen winked at me in class? I mean, there I was, just sitting and listening to Eric's presentation, and I look over and he's looking at me." She clapped her hands together and managed to squeal a high-pitched trill that didn't quite break the 'quiet in the library' rule. "And then he does this sexy wink—oh, Bella! You should have seen it! I thought I was going to explode right there. I mean, he is _the_ hottest guy in school. Don't you think?"

I forced a smile. "Sure, Jess. Listen, I have a lot of work to do…"

"Oh, Bella! This is why you don't have a boyfriend. You are _way_ too into school. You need to relax and live a little." She flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other and examined her nails before starting in on me again. "You could be almost pretty if you'd put some effort into it, you know."

I stared at her for a few seconds, but the eye contact seemed to egg her on.

"If you ever hope to get any boyfriend at all—especially one that's half as hot as Edward—you're going to have to realize that guys like girls who have more to offer than just book smarts. Look at me, for example. I get good grades, sure, but I don't really advertise that. I'm on the cheer squad, and I show up to things. Like, parties. And I put some effort into how I look. I mean, my natural beauty helps, but you have to—"

"Jess!" I couldn't take it anymore. "I know. You're awesome and I'm way behind you in the social scene. But I really have to do some homework right about now."

I took a deep breath and stared at my open folder. I heard her huff and mutter something under her breath, but she stayed quiet.

Ten minutes had passed, maybe more. Then, of course, Mike and Tyler burst through the library doors, giggling like a couple of girls.

"Hey, guys, over here!" Jessica whisper-shouted at them, and I peeked through my hands as Mike ran at Jessica, grabbing her shoulders with both hands. "Hey, beautiful!"

She squealed and I dug my fists into my eye sockets. Sometimes I wished the world would just disappear.

"Heads up, Mikey!" I opened my eyes just in time to see Tyler pitch a football toward Mike. It glanced off of his fingertips and—of course—flew toward my face. I ducked to miss it. Mike let go of Jessica, grabbed the ball off of the floor and vaulted over the table. He chased a cackling Tyler out the library door.

In the commotion, my white American History binder tipped off of the table, sending the contents spilling across the floor.

All I could see was the folder with my Spanish Flu research sliding in slow motion from the back pocket of the binder, across the library floor's thin industrial carpeting, the papers inside shifting left and right and all over the place.

The one of the photograph printouts flew out the farthest, finally stopping just in front of the bookshelf next to Jessica's chair.

I shot from my seat with uncharacteristic grace, falling to my knees and skidding to a stop with the printout in reach. I saw in slow-motion my hand reach out for it, fingers wide, attempting to smash my palm down on top of the photograph before Jessica could see it.

But when my hand hit the ground, all I felt was the rough carpeting.

I looked up in terror. Jessica was still seated in her chair, mere inches from where I was kneeling at her feet. She held the slightly worn piece of paper in her hands.

I couldn't breathe. I said a silent prayer that the paper would magically disappear into a puff of white smoke. That the lights would go out. That the fire alarm would ring. That a hot guy would walk into the library and distract her from the evidence of whatever was going on.

None of the above happened. Instead, Jessica looked over the top of the photograph at me, her left eyebrow raised so high it was practically indistinguishable from her hairline. My stomach pitched down through the floor.

"What is this?" She glanced back to the photograph. "Is this Edw—"

"It's for our history presentation."

Jessica and I both snapped our heads up at the sound of Edward's rich voice, our mouths agape for totally different reasons.

He put his hand out to me and I took it unconsciously. He helped me to my feet and stared into my eyes for a split second too long while he continued his explanation.

"Mr. Randall paired us up for the presentation since I hadn't yet enrolled in school when he assigned the report." He turned away from me and to Jessica, who was looking up at him through her wildly batting, overly-mascaraed lashes.

"Oh. I mean, it's cool. A little weird, but… cool." She let out a breathy giggle and flipped her hair behind her shoulder.

"It was Bella's idea," he smiled at me, but it was a smile I hadn't seen before. One that made my stomach knot up. "See? My dad is even playing the doctor. Bella thought a visual representation might be an effective way to show the impact of our topic—the Spanish Influenza epidemic of the early 1900s."

"Yeah, that's totally a great idea. Visual impact," Jessica fawned. "I mean, you're way too hot to die from something so gross."

Edward stared at her. He arched his eyebrows and held out his hand for the photo. "Well, then, you're in for a treat Tuesday morning when we give the presentation."

Jessica held out the photo with a high-pitched giggle, and she leaned forward to give Edward a peek down her V-neck tee. "I can't wait to see it."

Edward pulled the printout from her hand and turned to me, suddenly. "Shall we go? We have some things to discuss."

His voice was even and his face hadn't changed, but his eyes were cold. Goosebumps rose up on the back of my neck and I had to break his gaze or I thought I'd throw up.

I took a breath for the first time since he'd arrived on the scene, picked up the rest of the spilled papers and my backpack, and followed him dutifully out of the library.

He continued past my locker, down the stairwell and out the front doors. The photograph printout was still wrinkled in his fist. I followed him, terrified and clutching my folder for dear life.

I was caught.

I just wasn't sure at what.

He marched across the ball field and to the small clearing where I'd fled on his first day of school. I followed him, three steps behind, and stood watching him as he put his arm up to lean on a moss-covered tree. The hand with the photograph hung stiffly at his side.

He didn't turn to look at me. I stared at my shoes, unsure of what to say. I knew there was no way I could think fast enough to mitigate the damage.

"I think you have some explaining to do, Bella Swan." His voice was deadpan.

Heat rose to my face. "Me?!" I sputtered. I was suddenly very, very angry. "_I _have some explaining to do?"

I shook the black folder at his stone-still back. "If anyone has any explaining to do, it's _you_."

He wheeled around so fast I didn't see him turn. And in a split second he was upon me.

**. . . . .**


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the amazing reviews and PMs, guys! I love hearing what you think about the story, and your comments help me think of things that make the story even better. I'm so grateful for each one of you.**_

_**Now, to pick up where we left off...**_

**. . . . .**

"I think you have some explaining to do, Bella Swan." His voice was deadpan.

Heat rose to my face. "Me?!" I sputtered. I was suddenly very, very angry. "_I _have some explaining to do?"

I shook the black folder at his stone-still back. "If anyone has any explaining to do, it's _you_."

He wheeled around so fast I didn't see him turn. And in a split second he was upon me.

He pulled the folder from my grasp and tore it open. He ripped out the other printouts of the boy—him?—in the hospital bed and held them in front of my face, along with the one he'd captured in the library.

His lips were tight against his teeth and his whole body was coiled as if he were ready to spring again. Instead, he spoke. His question echoed Jessica's.

"What are these."

Except it wasn't a question.

I grabbed the papers from his steely grasp and shoved them against his chest, the paper crinkling between his shirt and my fist.

He may be angry with me, but I was far angrier at him. Angry at him for knowing my secret. Angry at him for accusing me of whatever he was accusing me of. Angry at him for showing up and ruining the love affair I'd started with the long-dead version of him. Angry at him for making me like him even though I was sure something was terribly, terribly wrong with the real him.

"You know, Edward, maybe _you'd_ better tell me what these are. Because they look an awful lot like you in a hospital bed in 1918 with your dad treating you for a fatal case of the Spanish Flu." His jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes burned. But that only toughened my resolve. It was time to get this out in the open, whatever the conclusion was. "But that isn't really possible, is it? So maybe you can enlighten _me_ as to what the hell is going on here."

I shoved the papers harder against his body, but he was unmovable. It suddenly popped into my head how divinely hard his chest was. Flustered, I let go and backed away.

He plucked the papers out of midair and stared at the top photo. I watched him, but his face was stone and gave away nothing.

"That is what it appears to be, isn't it."

Again, not a question at all. But no answers, either. I was sensing a pattern.

"Where did you get these?" He looked at the second photo, and then the third and fourth. I watched him breathlessly, studying the planes of his face close-up. His topaz eyes softened momentarily, and he brought his right hand up to gingerly touch the right margin of the last photograph. Finally, he tore his glance away from the picture and looked through me.

I sputtered a lame defense.

"I haven't shown anyone. Besides, why are you getting all crazy about this now? You _knew_ I had these. You saw them in my room the night you broke in."

"Broke in?"

"Yes. Last week." He just stared dumbly at me. I was infuriated that he was pretending to not know what I was talking about instead of at least trying to explain his actions. "Oh, come on! Are you going to tell me that you let yourself into so many girls' rooms in the middle of the night that you can't remember being in my room and digging through my folder of Spanish Flu research? I know you were there. You left the window open."

His stony exterior cracked; he looked at me for a moment longer. Then he blinked once, and his voice turned soft.

"I wasn't in your room. I would never disrespect you like that." He held the rumpled papers out to me, his eyes unseeing again. I shivered involuntarily. Somehow, his not being there was more disturbing than if he'd admitted to it. He stepped forward, and my heart raced. And then he was past me, headed back toward school.

"We need to go talk with Carlisle."

**. . . . .**

A few minutes later, I was sitting in the front seat of his shiny silver Volvo with the misty Washington scenery flying by. I was too scared to look at the speedometer or pay attention to where we were going. Being in such close proximity to Edward—even under these less-than-ideal circumstances—was making my heart beat faster and my head a little dizzy. I blamed it on my nervousness, but I had a feeling it had more to do with the boy next to me and the delicious way he smelled than the precariousness of the situation I was in.

Instead, I tried to take deep breaths and focused on the photo printout in front of me. A wider shot than the one I normally fixated on, it showed Edward's early-1900s twin being tended to by the mysterious Dr. Cullen lookalike, a patient on either side of the boy in the bed. One, a grade-school aged girl who looked like she was already dead. The other, on the far right side, a woman who looked to be in her late 30s or early 40s. Even though the photo was black and white, her hair seemed to be the same shade as that of the boy. Her head was tipped slightly toward him and the doctor, her eyes half-closed but still appearing to be focused on the young man in the bed. I looked at Edward and wondered if she was the cause of his pause in the woods.

Just then, the Volvo veered off the road. I grabbed for the dashboard to steady myself for the inevitable impact before I realized we were flying down a narrow road flanked tightly by trees on both sides.

A massive wood and glass house loomed out of the forest in front of us, and Edward slammed the car to a halt. He was out of the car and around to my door before I had registered that we'd stopped. It took me longer to unlatch my seatbelt than it had for Edward to park and get out, it seemed.

I took a deep breath of pine-scented air and followed him up the steps to the behemoth of a home.

I followed his lead, and didn't remove my shoes or jacket before we climbed the giant wooden staircase. I felt shabby in comparison as I marveled at the sparse, modern décor. I tried to keep up with Edward, nervous about what was about to happen but still in awe at my surroundings. _Who lived like this?_

At the top of the stairs, Edward spoke for the first time since our discussion in the woods.

"Carlisle, I have something urgent to discuss with you." I looked around, and saw nothing. Then a door opened at the end of the hallway.

"I'm in here, Son." The doctor stepped out to greet us. "I see we have company. Miss Swan, nice to see you again."

I managed a tight smile. I supposed it was nice to see him when I wasn't bleeding, for a change, but I wasn't sure these circumstances were really any more pleasant. I vaguely wondered if throwing myself backward down the stairs would cause enough of a distraction that Edward would forget all about the photographs and my accusations.

Instead, I followed Edward into the dark office.

"Bella, why don't you show Carlisle what you have there."

I couldn't disobey his silky voice, so I took a deep breath and handed the wrinkled photograph printouts to the kind-eyed doctor. One glance and his expression instantly changed. He peered over at me, then down again at the photographs.

"Where did you get these, Miss Swan?"

My heart thudded in my chest, and for a split second, I couldn't remember how to speak.

Edward cleared his throat.

"I… um. I found them in a book. Well—the first one. The first one was in a book. I got the others from an online database of photos from the National World War I Museum." I swallowed, but my mouth and throat felt parched. "I did an image search until I found some that looked like the first one. And that lead me to a whole gallery by this photographer."

I paused. Then couldn't help but add, "He took these in 1918."

Dr. Cullen nodded. "Yes, he did. Mr. McCarthy. He spent the day at the hospital before he moved on. I hadn't realized he'd actually printed these before he died."

I stared at Dr. Cullen in disbelief. Was he admitting to having been there? Or was the photographer's work that well-known? The doctor looked up at me and smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"How is it that you stumbled upon these? Or, should I say, upon the first one of these?"

I glanced at Edward, who was staring at the papers in Dr. Cullen's hand. I gulped.

"I was assigned the Spanish Influenza for an American History paper." The doctor stared silently. I felt forced to continue. "I was doing some research in a book at the library and saw the first photo. I—I thought the young man in the photo was, well, attractive. And I wanted to find out more about him. So I did an image search to see if there were more photos of him, or to see if I could find out what happened to him."

Edward's eyes suddenly snapped to mine. I blushed furiously. "I went to the history museum in Seattle to see their Spanish Influenza display, and I talked to the historian there. He helped me put together a list of names of young men who died that week at that same hospital where the photos were taken. I—I just wanted to know his name."

I dug through my folder until I came to the list. I held it out. Dr. Cullen and Edward both stared across the room at the list, neither of them coming forward to take it. At the same time, both of them spoke as if they had been reading the list in unison.

"Edward A. Masen."

"Yes. Edward A. Masen." I stared at Edward, unexpectedly feeling bold. "And then the next day, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen shows up in my biology class. So Edward tells me I have some explaining to do, but I don't think I'm the one with the answers here."

Dr. Cullen smiled in spite of the tension. He looked over at Edward.

"She is a spitfire, just like you said."

"And aren't we lucky for that?" Edward snorted and turned his back to us to look out the window. "All joking aside Carlisle, there's more. She hasn't told you everything yet."

"Edward, I—" I looked from Edward to Carlisle, unsure of what I hadn't told him. Other than the fact that I just might be in love with him—both the boy in the photo and the one standing in front of me—but that didn't exactly seem like something I would be required to admit in public.

"Your room, Bella," he prompted. "Your folder."

"Oh, yeah. Well, last week someone was in my room."

"In your room?" Carlisle looked confused, and Edward turned to face him.

"Of course it wasn't me, Carlisle," he stated matter-of-factly, as if he were answering a question I hadn't heard. "That's what's so worrying."

The doctor addressed me then. "Why do you think someone was in your room, Bella?"

I shrugged. "Well, I woke up in the middle of the night and I was cold. My window was open, but I knew I hadn't left it open. I got up and saw that my folder—the one with these photos—was open on my desk, and the breeze blew the papers all over the floor. But I'd put it under my history book before I'd gone to sleep. I'm sure of it."

Carlisle nodded slowly, encouraging me to go on. I didn't know what else to say.

"And why did you think it was Edward, dear?"

"Well, at first, I thought I could… could smell him. You know, his cologne or something." I blushed furiously. First, I have to admit that I think he's attractive. And now I'd basically copped to thinking he smelled good. Yeah, I pretty much wanted to crawl in a hole. "Then I decided that maybe it was a dream. But then Jake came over, and he was acting all weird. He accused me of having one of you in my room, so I admitted that I thought Edward had been there."

"Jake?" Edward chimed in now, defensive and (unless I was selfishly imagining it) slightly jealous-sounding—or was he appalled? "Jake who?"

"Jacob Black. He's my best friend. He lives over on the reservation, but he and his dad come over all the time."

Carlisle put up his hand suddenly without looking at Edward, as if to preemptively quiet him. Both of them just stared at me.

"We're just friends," I added, hoping he wouldn't get the wrong idea. Just in case.

Their continued stillness unnerved me, and I pushed ahead. "And then there was the next day, when your brother tried to hit me in the parking lot to keep me from doing my presentation and showing the photos."

I was suddenly upset again, remembering the odd string of occurrences that had been happening ever since the Cullens had appeared. "How else would you have known about these pictures and my presentation if you hadn't been sneaking around my room, looking at my stuff?"

Carlisle turned soundlessly to Edward, who looked grey. He sighed, then spoke.

"Alice. And no, that wasn't our intention."

I watched the two of them curiously until Edward broke the silence, yet again answering a question Dr. Cullen hadn't even asked.

"But she would have seen that."

"That is indeed concerning." Carlisle shook his head. "I don't like any of the possible meanings of this. Or the potential ramifications."

The two locked eyes for a brief moment before Edward turned to face the window, his dark shadow surrounded by sunbursts of light spilling in from outside. Despite the tense atmosphere, I was entirely taken in by how beautiful he was, even when I couldn't see his face.

His shoulders raised and lowered once in a heaving sigh before he spoke.

"What do we do now, Carlisle?"

"Well, if Alice knew one portion of this, perhaps there is more to see." He turned to me then, and I faltered, wondering what he was talking about and hoping he wasn't expecting me to provide any answers. I'd had no idea what was going on from the moment Edward Cullen showed up in my biology class, and this little chat with his father had left me even more confused.

"Bella, will you please have a seat for a moment?" Dr. Cullen broke my reverie. "We have to have a short family meeting."

I nodded, sure I couldn't reject his offer. The seriousness on their faces made me more nervous than I'd already been, and I sank into the chair in front of the massive desk.

When I turned around, both men were gone.

**. . . . .**


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Thanks for hanging on for the next installment. I've been bowled over by your love, PMs and reviews. Thanks for the encouragement. I have a month of school left, so if that doesn't kill me, you should be hearing from me more regularly come summer.**_

**. . . . .**

I sat in the leather chair for a few minutes after they'd left, replaying the confusing discussion. I wasn't sure what to make of Dr. Cullen's familiarity with the photographs and the photographer, and the way Edward answered all of those unspoken questions seemed weird to me. I mean, I knew Charlie pretty well and could often predict what he was going to say or do (usually something to do with the Mariners, fishing or beer), but I didn't finish his sentences or answer him before he'd asked.

The fact that it hadn't been Edward in my room was what unnerved me most. Even though the idea of him creeping around my room at night was disturbing, thinking about someone not-him creeping around my room was even more disconcerting.

And Dr. Cullen's worry about the—how did he put it?—"possible meanings or potential ramifications" of my midnight visitor was bizarre.

I imagined that any father would find it concerning that a stranger was crawling through the window into a teenage girl's room in the middle of the night. But the obvious reaction to that would be to call the police or advise the girl's parents to get an alarm system, not call a family meeting. And what on earth could petite, sweet, adorable Alice possibly have seen?

None of this was making sense.

Least of all my growing attraction to the increasingly strange Edward. Sure, he was gorgeous. And brilliant. And funny and kind. And he smelled so good and looked so good in his collared shirts and those amazing designer jeans… I blushed just thinking about it. But his behavior was so odd that I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Sure, Jacob's concern about the Cullens had weirded me out. But I didn't take it too seriously—he didn't even know the Cullens, and I was sure his comments were just based in jealous. To be honest, I'd felt something strange about Edward and his family even before Jacob brought it up. Edward was moodier than just about any girl I knew (ok, definitely moodier than any girl I knew—except Jessica), and I couldn't tell if he liked me or wanted to get away from me. One minute he was bringing me breakfast and teasing me over science labs, the next he was cajoling his brothers and sisters to intentionally involve me in a car accident. Which was a little over the top, even if you considered that he didn't want me to show that photo. Because, really, all he had to do was ask me to not show it.

I was never great at understanding guys, but his conduct was more than a little harder to decipher than Mike's or Jake's.

I sighed and fidgeted in the chair. How long was their family meeting going to take?

I stood up and peered over Dr. Cullen's desk. Medical files, fat books, a few family photos in ancient looking frames. I picked up one of the entire Cullen family dressed up in old-timey outfits. I smiled, remembering the time that my mom had dragged me and her now-husband, Phil, into one of those vintage photo shops and forced us to dress up. Somehow she persuaded me to put on a lacy red and black whore's dress, complete with a wad of cash stapled to a lacy garter, which had embarrassed me to no end. She and Phil had thought it was hilarious. In the end, it had been a fun day, but I hadn't let her send one of the photos to Charlie. I think I was mostly terrified Billy and Jacob would see it and never let me forget it.

I heard a throat clear, and I set the photo back on the desk, ashamed to have been caught snooping, no matter how innocent picking up a framed photo might have been.

Edward stood in the doorway, his arm resting on the frame of the door. My heart thudded in response to seeing him there, and I told myself it was just from surprise.

He smiled a tight smile and motioned to me to follow him. I stayed a few steps back and tried not to watch him as he descended the stairs and entered the dining room. He turned to me and held out his hand to me. I was too self-conscious to take it, so I stepped into the room in front of him, catching my breath in what I hoped was an innocuous gesture as he put his hand on my lower back.

"I think everyone except Esme has met Bella," he looked at me and smiled again, a bit looser this time. "Bella, this is my mother, Esme. Esme, Isabella Swan. Bella, you remember everyone—Carlisle, Jasper, Alice, Emmett and Rosalie."

I looked at each of the stunning faces in turn, nodding. Everyone returned my smile except for Rosalie, who glared for a second and then sighed loudly before turning her attention to something more exciting than me. Her fingernails.

Edward stepped in front of me and pulled out a chair on the near side of the large table. He motioned to me and I obediently took a seat. He stood behind my chair, his hand lightly resting on the back. I could feel the coolness of his fingertips just centimeters from my neck and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. I focused on Dr. Cullen's face to keep myself from being tempted to lean back into him.

"Bella, we've talked about what's happened, and we are concerned for your safety," Dr. Carlisle broke the silence. "We can't go into details, but we'd like to ask something of you."

I nodded, not brave enough to ask if they knew details and didn't want to tell me, or if they had no details to share.

"First, it is very possible that whoever visited your room the other night will come back. To guard against that, would you be able to lock or secure your window?"

I nodded again.

"Yes, I usually keep it locked except when Ja—um, I usually keep it locked." My face burned with my near admission of having male visitors. However innocent Jake's visits, I didn't exactly want Edward and his whole family thinking I had a parade of gentleman callers hopping in and out of my window. "My room is on the second floor, so it would take some real talent to get in, so I don't usually worry about it. But I'll make sure I do that from now on. "

Dr. Cullen smiled. "The next request might seem strange, but it's only because we care about your safety. We'd like your permission to spend a little more time with you to make sure you're safe."

I stared at him dumbly, and then peeked over at Alice. She was grinning at me and nodding exuberantly. "It will be so much fun, Bella! I've been wanting to spend more time with you ever since Edward told me about you."

Edward cleared his throat loudly, and Alice stopped short. Her smile got bigger, and she winked over my head at Edward.

"We won't be too intrusive, Bella," the doctor continued. "Perhaps just let Edward drive you home from school and spend some time with Alice and Rosalie on the weekends."

I ventured a glance at Rosalie, who had set her jaw squarely and was glaring at Dr. Cullen with a fury usually reserved for me. "I'm busy. But I'm sure Alice won't mind taking my shift. Or Edward."

I was suddenly mortified at Dr. Cullen's suggestion. I hadn't thought about it in those terms before Rosalie's observation—I'd simply thought of it as a chance go get closer to Edward and his family. Now, I bristled at the idea.

"You definitely do not need to babysit me. I can tell Charlie—um—my dad about what happened, and he can maybe get a home alarm system or something. And I can drive myself to and from school. Nothing has happened other than that one night, so I think I'm safe. Especially during the daytime and in public."

I fumbled for another excuse, but Emmett cut in with a giant flail of his arms.

"No way, kiddo. We're stoked to spend some time with you. Especially Edward."

He laughed a loud, boisterous laugh and I felt Edward shift behind me. The next thing I knew, he had a hooting Emmett in a headlock. They wrestled for a few seconds before Rosalie stood up abruptly, shoving her chair three feet behind her.

"Way to be cautious, guys. Did you miss everything Carlisle said?"

She turned on her red high heel and marched up the stairs.

The boys stopped their roughhousing and Edward sheepishly returned to my side. I blushed at his sideways smile.

I caught Mrs. Cullen watching Edward with a soft smile on her face, and Alice was grinning at us, her head resting on Jasper's shoulder. Dr. Cullen stood quietly at the head of the table.

"Well, I have some work I want to get done this evening. Edward, why don't you take Bella home?"

I balked, remembering Rosalie's comment about taking shifts. I did not need to be babysat, and I certainly didn't want Edward to see me as a helpless child. But then it occurred to me that he had driven me here and I didn't even know where I was. There was no way I'd get home without him. I swallowed my pride and started to stand. I had more questions for them, but I knew that the conference was over.

Edward pulled out my chair for me, and then waited while I said awkward goodbyes to the rest of his family. Alice made sure she was first. She flung herself at me, wrapping her tiny, willowy arms around my neck and promising to see me very soon. Jasper stayed at a distance, offering a shy wave and a smile. I appreciated his hands-off approach. I wasn't big on PDA with people I didn't know. Emmett clapped me on the shoulder with a wide hand. Edward had to put his hand on my back to steady me after the friendly—if not over-exuberant—blow. Dr. Cullen stepped forward to shake my hand and told me to stay in touch and stay safe. Mrs. Cullen simply put a cool hand to my cheek and thanked me for coming over, adding that she hoped she'd be seeing more of me in the coming weeks. Her kindness enveloped me, and for a moment, I was glad I had visited, and I forgot all about the strange occurrences that had necessitated the meeting.

Finally, Edward was leading me toward the door. He helped me put on my jacket, and I blushed at the old-world genteelness of it all. Once we were in the car, he exhaled sharply, as if he'd been holding his breath the entire time we were in his house.

His gesture reminded me to breathe, too, and I pulled in a full breath. I smelled his sweet cologne mixed with the leather scent of his car, and I felt the tension of the day melt away.

I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Edward. The dwindling daylight cast soft shadows on his face. His jaw was set, creating an enticing ripple just below the hollow of his cheek, and his eyes darted between the windshield and the side mirrors. His long hands gripped the steering wheel. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering down his neck to his shoulders and chest. I could see his defined chest under his dress shirt, and I admired the roundness of his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and I caressed his forearms with my eyes before tearing my glance away from him. The scenery was flying by again, and I tried to concentrate on where I was, not whom I was with.

We entered the Forks city limits, and he steered straight to my house without asking for directions. He opened my car door for me and pulled my backpack out of the backseat, tossing it effortlessly over one shoulder as he walked me to my front door.

He carefully handed over the heavy backpack. I nodded to him, afraid to say anything silly, and started to open the door. His left arm reached in front of me and blocked the doorway.

"Bella. I—" he paused for a brief moment, biting his lower lip as he reconsidered his words. "We shouldn't be friends."

I was flustered by his proximity and caught off-guard by his random proclamation of our incompatibility. Defensively, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a step backward.

"We shouldn't? Why not? And who says we're friends, anyway?"

He seemed as caught off-guard by my outburst, and took a step away from me, his mouth slightly agape.

"I mean, one minute, you're being friendly, the next you're trying to kill me. You act like you want to be my friend, then you're kidnapping me from school and having strange coded conversations with your dad about me. Then your dad tells me your entire family is going to be my protective unit against some—some who-knows-what, and now you're telling me we can't hang out. And how did you know where I live, anyway?"

Edward's face suddenly brightened, his lips curling into that adorable half-smile that I couldn't resist. He choked out a single coughing laugh, and he looked up past his unruly hair and shook his head in silent mirth before looking back to me with a poorly-hidden grin.

"Spitfire, indeed," he mumbled.

"I am _not_ a spitfire! I'm just… I'm just pissed, that's all." I balled up my fists and glared at him. He continued with a smile.

"Everyone knows where the police chief lives, Bella. Besides, I didn't say I didn't _want_ to be friends. I just said we _shouldn't_ be." He shook his head again, biting down again on his bottom lip. "I'm trouble. And _you'll_ be trouble for me. I could see that the first time I looked at you."

"_I'm_ trouble? How am _I_ trouble?" I was confused. I got into less trouble than any other teenage girl in the world. Unless you counted falling down, acquiring bruises and accidentally breaking stuff as trouble. Then perhaps he was right about me.

He ignored my question. "But we don't really have a choice, I guess. You know, with this history report and all."

"And my midnight stalker," I reminded him wryly.

"Ah, yes. That, too." His joviality suddenly turned to seriousness. His nostrils flared and he looked back into the darkness toward his car. "I'll pick you up for school tomorrow morning. We can decide then whose house to study at after school."

My hackles went up immediately. The giddiness his laughter had inspired was gone, and I was again irritated and embarrassed at the idea of him tending me like some three year-old.

He looked behind us again, this time farther down the road. He turned back to me, a soft smile on his lips. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll make it as painless as I can, you having to spend time with me. Who knows? You might even decide you like me hanging around."

He cocked one eyebrow at me and raised my left hand to his lips. I felt their coolness press against my skin. And I suddenly understood that godawful shrieking noise Jessica made—I was fighting with everything in me the urge to squeal with glee.

And with that, he was headed back to his car.

I watched him pull out of the driveway, blinking his car lights once as he drove away in a goodbye gesture. I pressed my back to the front door, leaning all of my weight against the solid wood. I wasn't sure I could be trusted to stand on my own two feet. A grin broke out over my face, and I giggled to myself.

Just then, I heard footsteps in the black beyond the porch light. I knew Charlie wasn't home yet, and the pit of my stomach sank with dread. Was my midnight visitor back to finish the job?

I held my hands up in a defensive karate chop position and hollered into the night, trying to sound as intimidating as I could muster. "Who are you and what do you want?"

**. . . . .**


	14. Chapter 14

_**What's this?! Two chapters in one calendar-week?! I'd say that I amazed even myself here, but I know the only reason this is done and posted is because I'm desperately trying to procrastinate on my own American History project.**_

_**Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and sent me messages. I didn't get a chance to respond to your kind reviews, but I thought a new chapter might absolve me of that slight.**_

_**This is a bit of a fluffy chapter, but it does have some "awww" moments and that sweet side of Edward we all like to see.**_

_**Let me know what you think!**_

**. . . . .**

I held my hands up in a defensive karate chop position and hollered into the night. "Who are you and what do you want?"

A dark shadow loomed toward me and I raised my arms higher. "You don't want to fight me!" I bellowed.

"I guess that's true. But I am dying to see your mad karate skills, Bells."

Jake's massive frame separated from the darkness, and his white smile beamed in the castoff light from the porch. "I doubt you could hurt me, but I may laugh myself to death."

"Oh, Jake. You scared me." I let out a giant breath and dropped my arms. At the same time, the doormat slid away from the door, taking me with it. I fell backward in a heap, landing flat on my back, weighed down by my massive bookbag.

Jake roared with laughter, slapping his thighs and throwing back his head.

I burned with embarrassment, and struggled like a drunk crab to get up off of the porch floor. But my bag was too heavy, and I couldn't sit up enough to get my footing. Jake kindly composed himself enough to step forward and give me a hand up, but he was still chortling as he brushed off the dirt from my backpack. I slapped at him annoyedly, and then fought with my key to open the door. Jacob kicked the doormat back into place before following me into the entryway.

"So, that Cullen guy drop you off? What is he, your boyfriend now?"

I turned to roll my eyes at him. He was smiling, but his eyes didn't look very amused. I focused on that in an attempt to not blush and give away my growing feelings for Edward.

"No, he is not my boyfriend. We are working on a project for school. Not that it's any of your business, Mr. Bond." I didn't bother to tell him that we hadn't started working on it yet. Or that he was returning me from some kind of strange family meeting about my safety and their family's apparent skill as bodyguards. That seemed like information he didn't exactly need to know. "What are you doing here anyway? Other than spying on me, that is."

He shrugged and followed me into the kitchen. I reached into the fridge and handed him ingredients for supper over my shoulder.

"I was just talking with my dad about your break-in the other night—"

"It wasn't that big of a deal, Jake. Besides, now Billy's going to tell my dad about it and he'll get all weird."

He looked at me sideways and pulled a pan down from an upper cabinet at my mimed request. "It kind of is a big deal, Bells. And Dad won't tell Charlie. I asked him not to. But he did think that maybe I should hang out with you a little more when Charlie isn't here. Especially after dark."

I rolled my eyes and put my hand on my hip. "You know, I don't need a nanny. I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself."

Jake instantly jumped back three feet and whipped his arms up in front of him, mimicking my earlier defensive posture. He flailed around, throwing in a few _waaaah_s and _hi-ya_s before stopping abruptly and asking in a deadpan voice:

"You mean, like this?"

I grabbed a head of lettuce from the counter and chucked it at him. He cracked up and caught the flying ball of green like a football, then rushed toward me and pinned me against the counter. I screamed and laughed, banging on his back with my fists. He grabbed a ripe red tomato and held it over my head, threateningly.

"Don't start a food fight you can't win, Swan. I'm warning you. I practically live with Quil and Embry, and they are professional food-fighters." His laughter grew as I attacked him with a cucumber, whacking him on the shoulder until he threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Good god, Bells. Don't destroy a perfectly good vegetable salad on my account. Or on my rock-solid body."

He flexed his bicep at me and then laughed harder, congratulating himself for making a joke. I stifled a giggle, pulled a knife from the block behind us and pointed it toward him.

"Chop, Mr. Funnypants." I jabbed at the tomatoes and a can of black olives on the counter next to him.

He snickered, yielding his offense to serve as sous-chef. "You, Isabella Swan, of all people, should not be playing with knives."

I kicked at him with my left leg, steadying myself on the counter to make sure I didn't fall again. Once was enough for one night. "Cut enough for four salads and call Billy. Tell him my dad will pick him up after work for dinner."

**. . . . .**

Charlie and Billy arrived just about the time the oven dinged to remind me to take the casserole out. By then, Jake was wearing my pink apron, which was ridiculously small on him and barely covered his chest. He was waving a wooden spoon for some unknown reason, singing a ridiculous song he was making up as he went, and I was drunk on laughter and up to my elbows in soapy dishwater.

Charlie and Billy paused inside the door, looking at us like we'd lost our minds. In reality, we sort of had. After the stress of the last few weeks and particularly the last few days, I needed a mental vacation. And Jake was nothing if not a mental vacation.

Our dads caught up on the latest Sports Center stats while Jacob and I readied the kitchen for dinner. I gave him the task of wiping the soap suds off of the walls and ceiling while I set the table and got the food ready to go.

The four of us chatted while we ate, and then we sent the old guys back up to the living room to argue about the upcoming baseball games.

Jacob loaded the dishwasher and I packed the leftovers in two containers—one for Jake and Billy to take home, one for Charlie to take for lunch tomorrow.

"Want me to come back tonight, Bells? You know, just to be safe?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm sure whatever was going on was just a one-off. Besides, I have the Forks Chief of Police sleeping just two doors down. I'll scream if anything weird happens."

Jake looked at me sternly, and he reached out to grab my arm. "Just lock your window, ok? And don't let anyone in your room. Not even one of the Cullens. Especially one of the Cullens."

I jerked my arm away from him. "Come on, Jacob. Why on earth do you think they'd be coming into my room in the middle of the night? You're going to have to get used to the idea that I have other friends."

"You can have other friends, Bells. I just don't like _them_; I want you to be careful around them."

"You don't even know them, Jake. Why are you being so weird about this? They're nice. All of them. Well, maybe not Rosalie, but you'd probably like her best of all. She's really gorgeous."

He laughed at me. "Yeah, gorgeous or not, she's one of the last people I'd ever like."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Stop being such a jealous jerk. You know I love you the most."

He gently punched my shoulder and gave me a wink. "Well, let's make sure we keep it that way. I've never been too good at sharing."

_At the rate Edward and I are going, you'll never have to,_ I snarked to myself. I handed a pack of leftovers to Billy and patted Jake on the shoulder as he pushed Billy's wheelchair out the front door. He turned to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the leftovers, Bells. See ya."

I watched them leave and then locked the door behind me. I snuggled into the couch and pulled a book from under the coffee table, but Charlie interrupted my thoughts of reading.

"So, you and Jake seem tighter than ever."

My heart stopped for a second and I wondered if I could just ignore away the comment. Charlie was staring at me over his newspaper. Like he expected a reply.

"Jeez, Dad. How many times do I have to tell you? Jacob and I are friends. Best friends. But just friends. We'll only _ever_ be just friends."

Charlie nodded at me thoughtfully; it was the reaction he had to almost everything I'd ever said or done my entire life. He cleared his throat and looked down at his paper. "Just make sure Jake knows that, Bells. For all his brawn and swagger, he's a tenderhearted kid."

"Jacob does know that, Dad. And besides, I've—um, I've kind of... met someone." I was blinded by embarrassment, and I felt my entire body blush from my forehead down to my toes. My dad and I didn't talk about much, and we definitely didn't talk about boys. In fact, I wasn't even quite sure why I'd brought it up at all, except for the fact that Edward was just about all I'd been able to think about for weeks. Maybe longer if you counted those strange photographs.

Charlie's paper dropped to his lap, and I stared at it as if I were reading the most interesting story ever. I could feel his eyes burning into my forehead.

"You? You met someone? A boy?" His voice rose a full octave with each question, and he cleared his throat again before returning to his normal register. "Well, that's something new."

"Yeah, um, new. I mean, it's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. We—we're just hanging out. Or something."

"'Or something'? Is that code for something I should know about?"

"No!" I sputtered. "We're partners. Not—I mean... lab partners. We're lab partners. And we are doing a history project together. So he might come over tomorrow night to study. Or I might go over to his house. We haven't decided yet. I don't know. I just thought you should know."

Charlie's left eyebrow was still in the stratosphere, and I wasn't sure which one of us was more embarrassed. He smacked his lips once before talking. "Is this the doctor's kid?"

I exhaled louder than I'd meant to. "Yeah. Edward. Cullen."

**. . . . .**

After I'd managed to escape from Charlie's attempt at father-daughter bonding, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed fully-clothed. The events of the day had exhausted me, and I was ready to lose myself to the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later, overheated from my jeans and warm sweater. I struggled out of my clothes and rummaged around in the dark for a tee-shirt. Throwing it over my head, I peered out of the window into the dark. Shining in the moonlight, I could see the blue reflection of animal eyes staring back at me. Far too big to be a cat or a raccoon, maybe even too big to be a deer. It was hard to tell the size of the animal against the black of the woods and with the height distortion caused by being on the second floor of my house.

I checked the lock on my window and confirmed it was indeed latched. I looked again at the place where the eyes had been, seeing only darkness. Whatever it was, I silently willed it to watch over my house and my little family of two in the night.

**. . . . .**

I got out of bed a little early the next morning. I wanted to have enough time to get ready so that I wasn't scrambling and late when Edward came to pick me up.

I showered, dabbed on a little makeup, wrestled with my blow dryer and round brush and spritzed on a tiny spray of perfume. Then I dug through my closet three times before settling on a pair of dark bootcut jeans and layering a simple dark blue long-sleeved tee-shirt over a plain white one. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard, but I knew the dark blue was a good color on me.

I was pulling on a pair of much-loved sneakers when I heard the doorbell ring. Peeking out the window, I saw Edward's Volvo parked behind my red truck. I clapped my hands and hopped up and down and couple of times I excitement before composing myself.

I grabbed two blueberry muffins from the kitchen and then opened the door with what I hoped was a cute flourish. He smiled at me, and reached for my backpack.

"That's ok,"I resisted. "You really don't have to carry it. It weighs a ton. You know, AP classes."

He grinned and reached more insistently. "That's exactly why I should carry it. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you carry your own 86-pound backpack everywhere?"

I let him take it from my shoulder and then handed him one of the muffins.

He balked just long enough for me to notice before taking it from me. "Thank you, that was very kind of you."

"It's my grandma's recipe. You'll like them. They're amazing. She was an incredible cook, and every one of her recipes turns out great every time I make it."

"You made these?"

I grinned and nodded. If there was one thing I wasn't shy about, it was my love for cooking. It was one of the few times I felt completely graceful. Well, except for when I spilled the ingredients or slipped on a spill. But the actual cooking and the way recipes turned out—that was something I was truly good at.

"I love to cook. You'll learn that pretty fast."

Edward ushered me to his car and closed the door behind me.

Part of the way to school, I couldn't help but notice that he hadn't taken a bite of his muffin. Mine was half gone.

"Oh my goodness—do you have some kind of 'no eating in the car' rule that I'm breaking?"

"No, no. Of course not. I'm just not that hungry right now. You go ahead."

I nodded, slightly disappointed that I wouldn't get to see his reaction to my cooking. I had come to learn that most of the reason I loved cooking so much was the gratification I got from watching other people enjoy my food. Charlie wasn't vocal about it, but the way he scarfed down his meals made me feel good. Jake was always bragging up my culinary skills to the guys, which embarrassed me in the best of ways. Especially when he compared my cooking to Emily's. Even Billy was constantly showering me with praise for my baked goods, and I loved seeing his eyes twinkle when I sent home leftovers after dinner at our house.

Edward looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and I smiled at him. I didn't want him to think I was weird or anything. It seemed like a juvenile thing to care so much about someone liking my food.

"It does smell really good, though. I guess I could use some dessert after breakfast." He smiled at me and took a tentative bite. "Oh, yeah. This is a good muffin. I haven't had a good blueberry muffin in ages."

I couldn't help but grin at his attempt to make me feel better. "You really don't have to humor me like that, you know. Sometimes one just isn't hungry."

He smiled at me, the rest of the muffin still in his hand. "I'll always humor you, Bella. I have this strange compulsion to make you happy."

My cheeks burned and he grinned out the windshield as we pulled into school.

I felt the eyes of my classmates burning through the car as we pulled into the lot. I hadn't ever dated anyone, and it wasn't for lack of opportunity. I knew the Cullens had made everyone crazy with their good looks, and most of the lustful glances of the girls fell on Edward since he was the only single one. Him pulling up to school with me in the passenger's seat was quite the entrance.

He seemed to know it, too, and he was taking full advantage of the stares. He exited his door and opened mine with a grandiose gesture. I waited, trying not to melt under all the stares, while he retrieved my backpack. Then he walked me across the lot, past the gawkers, up the stairs and down the hall to my locker. Then he waited for me to collect my books for first period.

After class, he returned to carry my books. I let him without argument, and gratefully exited the room with him before Jessica could corner me alone. He nudged into me with his elbow gently, which earned a smile. "So, Miss Swan, your house or mine tonight?"

"I have to cook dinner for my dad, so maybe you want to come over after school? We're having lasagne. It's already made, so I just need to pop it in the oven an hour before we eat. You could even stay if you wanted to."

"I have to be home before dinner, but I'd love to drive you home and work on our history report a bit." He smiled sideways at me. "Maybe I can even meet your dad."

"Um, do you have a bullet-proof vest?" I laughed. "If so, you might want to wear it. You know, just in case."

Edward chuckled. "You don't bring home too many guys, I take it."

"Ha! That's one way to put it," I shook my head. "I've never really dated anyone before, so I haven't brought anyone home."

Edward's head snapped in my direction and he smiled at me slyly. I realized what I'd said and started backpedaling.

"Not that we're dating. I just meant—I mean..." I sighed a deep exhale and started nervously laughing. "Wow. Open mouth, insert foot. I didn't mean to imply that we were dating or that that's what I thought this was. It's just, that's when you normally bring home someone. So, I haven't done that. And I haven't really had a study partner before, either. So I haven't brought anyone home at all."

Edward chuckled again. "No offense taken. Except maybe that you make it sound like dating me wouldn't be a good thing..." He looked at me again, this time out of the corner of his eye, teasingly.

I laughed and put my hands over my face in a defensive gesture. I was dying of embarrassment. "No, I didn't say that. I just don't think that's really what's going on here. Or, you know. Not right now. I mean, our history report is what's going on. That's all I meant. I'll shut up now."

He laughed softly and put his arm lithely around my shoulders, pulling me slightly closer to him. "Well, history report it is. I'll have to continue to wear you down, I see."

**. . . . .**

The rest of the day passed in a haze of drinking in Edward's presence between classes, trying not to stare at him during classes and avoiding Jessica with everything I was worth in the spare moments in between. I had a yearbook meeting during lunch, so I didn't get a chance to see if Edward would invite me to sit with his family. Then again, the meeting also protected me from having to avoid Jessica. And Rosalie.

When the final bell rang, I was so ready to burst out the doors and have Edward to myself for a few hours until Charlie came home and a whole new set of interrogations began. But I could wait to worry about that until at least six o'clock.

**. . . . .**


	15. Chapter 15

**. . . . .**

I flung myself through the school doors and onto the stairs that led to the parking lot. Edward was waiting patiently next to his car. He raised his chin toward me, and a smile spread across his face. I felt my own grin growing, and I carefully descended the stairs. I didn't want to fall and make a total spectacle of myself.

At the bottom of the stairs, I looked up and found that Edward was walking toward me, his smile brilliant white and his saunter full of confidence. We met near the first row of cars, and he took my backpack from my shoulder. I was getting used to this treatment, and I liked it.

"How was your afternoon?" He shyly peered over at me, and I stifled a gleeful giggle.

"I thought it would never end. How was yours?"

He returned my grin. "I was a bit, shall we say, distracted."

"Distracted?" I echoed his word before I realized what he'd meant—he had been distracted by me. I felt a blush creeping up my neck, and my cheeks felt like they'd burst from the pressure of my smile.

"Well, I knew I was meeting a beautiful woman after school and going to spend the rest of the afternoon studying at her house. So you can see how calculus and economics held little appeal for me."

I looked away, embarrassed by his admission. But my heart soared at the same time. I couldn't believe this was happening to me, that he was talking about me like this. Things like this—like Edward Cullen—simply didn't happen to me.

He opened my door and stood next to the car as I buckled my seat belt.

He grinned his lopsided grin at me, shut the passenger's side door and walked around the front of the car. I took the three seconds he was out of earshot to allow myself a quick session of hyperventilation, and then resumed what I hoped was a calm and self-assured air. He dropped both of our book bags on the floor of the back seat before opening his door and sliding lithely into his seat. I couldn't look at him for fear of shrieking in glee. I'd managed to avoid Jessica all day. I didn't want to start acting like her in this most critical of moments.

We drove in silence over the mile or so to my little white house. Edward filled the car with light banter and his heavenly scent, and I was feeling drunk with his presence by the time we reached our street.

I felt awkward waiting for him to let me out of the car, so I jumped out to meet him on the sidewalk, where he waited with both of our bags thrown over his shoulder like they weighed nothing. Charlie wasn't home yet, so I unlocked the door and welcomed Edward with a flourish to our little home.

"Let me give you a quick tour," I grinned.

Edward laughed as I did my best Vanna White impression while pointing out the living room to our right and the kitchen to our left. "My room and my dad's room are upstairs. It's small, but it's the perfect size for the two of us."

"It looks very cozy," Edward agreed. I smiled at him, grateful that he didn't seem to notice the difference between his family's sprawling showpiece of a home and our modest little abode.

I motioned toward the kitchen. "We can spread out our books and papers in here."

Edward dutifully followed me, pausing to pull out my chair and deposit my backpack on the extra chair next to my seat.

We pulled out our notebooks, and I set up my laptop and the notes for my planned presentation. I ignored the elephant in the room and promised myself I would make no mention of the missing photographs that had caused all of the drama in the library the week before. I knew I wanted—and deserved—an explanation to why he and Dr. Cullen appeared to be clones of men from the early 1900s, but I also knew that biding my time could only help me. Especially if I wanted to keep moving our burgeoning friendship in a positive direction. There would be ample time for questions later.

Edward listened carefully as I read through my presentation, praising my story and the arc of the slides. "It seems like you haven't left me much to add here, Smartypants," he teased. "I'm usually annoyed by working with partners because it seems that I end up doing all of the work. This time, it looks like I've met my match. You'll probably be complaining about having to pull my weight."

I blushed under his kind appraisal and tried to distract from my reddening face by agreeing that working in groups was one of my least favorite parts of high school. Inside, I reveled in the fact that we had at least something in common.

We talked our way through the slide show, coming up with a few places where Edward could interject and present some additional information to the class. We also revised the class activity at the end to be more interactive instead of the simple quiz I'd boringly tacked on to the end just to meet the criteria.

An hour, then almost two passed before I'd realized the time. I had been lost in Edward—his scent, his sense of humor, his crooked smile and gentle manner, his intelligence that came out when he talked about things he knew. It took a rumble of my stomach to remind me that it was almost dinner time.

"Oh my goodness!" I hopped out of my seat and set the oven to preheat. "I have to put in the lasagne or it will be stone cold in the center." Edward watched me pull the casserole dish out of the refrigerator, a soft smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"What?" I smiled at him, wondering what he was thinking. Was he laughing at me? I knew most girls my age weren't so Martha Stewart, and I was afraid that perhaps he found it too 1950s. I was an innate people-pleaser, and it worried me that my most go-to tactic to make others happy might just make my love interest think I was old fashioned.

"Nothing. You're... you're cute with your baking and your food and your domesticity." He then chuckled, seemingly embarrassed at his comment. "I find it sweet. I can tell you are a very good cook, Bella Swan. Even having had only one muffin as proof."

I burned with pleasure and embarrassment. I'd never had anyone other than my family and close friends praise my cooking before, and it made me feel good. My brain started churning with things I'd love to cook for Edward.

Once the food was in the oven, I settled back into my chair. Edward was still watching me with what looked like admiration and something else I couldn't quite identify. It made me giddy, and the butterflies in my stomach were looping around like they were on whatever kind of drug Edward was, too.

I cleared my throat as a distraction. Homework. We were totally doing homework. "Ok, so I think we have a plan."

I reached for our handwritten presentation outline at the same time as Edward, and our fingers touched. I pulled back slightly at the sensation, but his hand pursued mine. His long, cool fingers enclosed mine carefully, and I looked at him with wide eyes. I so did not want to be doing homework with him right now. And his words reinforced that.

"Thanks for being willing to work with me, Bella. I think we make a great team." He treated me to a glimpse of his sweet sideways smile before letting go of my hand.

He was pushing his chair back from the table when I heard the front door open.

My heart sank. How could the afternoon have gone so fast?

Charlie's boots clomped into the entryway, and he hung his jingling keys on the key rack and stepped through the kitchen doorway. I knew he had seen Edward's car in the drive and was making extra noise to warn me that he was home. I turned to smile at him, and saw he was taking off his holster—and he was letting his gun linger a little too long in his hand.

"Daaaaad!" I feigned excitement to see him and gave him the eyes of death to warn him against any potential bad behavior. I couldn't have him scaring away Edward just when I was making some headway with him. "This is Edward Cullen, Dr. Cullen's son. We're working on a history presentation together. We were just finishing up, in fact."

Edward had risen behind us and stepped alongside me with his hand out to my father.

"Mr. Swan, sir. Lovely home you have here."

"Yes, it is. And a lovely daughter, too. I assume you're being as gentlemanly with her as you are with me?"

I died a little inside. Seriously—he wasn't going to do this to me now, was he? And over a history assignment, no less? I could see him bringing out the overprotective dad act for a date or something, but certainly not for something as innocent as homework at the kitchen table. I could kick myself for mentioning that Edward might be, um, special to me.

But Edward didn't skip a beat, and he didn't look at all worried by the gun in my dad's grasp. Instead, he gripped my father's other hand and shook it heartily, smiling as if he was in on some private joke shared by two old friends. "Of course, sir. She's a smart young lady, so it's been a pleasure learning from her on this assignment. She was kind enough to humor our teacher when he paired us up, and it's been a big help to me, since I was at a disadvantage by joining the class so late in the school year."

I watched Charlie's posture relax, and his stern face turned into an amiable smile. "Well, that's all right, then, son. I'm glad she's been helping you out. She is a smart girl. She takes after her dad like that."

Edward chuckled along with Charlie, and I stared dumbly at the scene playing out in front of me. Was Edward some kind of wizard who could just charm the pants off of anyone with well-placed flattery? One minute, Charlie was practically threatening him with a gun, the next, they were chortling like old pals. If he could win over my stern old dad so easily, what on earth were his powers capable of with me?

Edward turned his head slightly toward the window, and then back again to Charlie. "Well, sir, I'd better be going home now. It seems that you have visitors—I don't want to overstay my welcome."

I looked over his shoulder and out the window just in time to see Jake and Billy pull into the driveway. I groaned inwardly. Great, just what I needed. Some kind of awkward meeting of my best friend and my dream guy. That would be a testosterone-fest I'd do anything to avoid.

Charlie tried to convince Edward to stay for dinner, but I was grateful that Edward held to his commitment to eat dinner at his own house. He turned to me, gently putting his hand on my upper arm. "Thanks again for studying with me, Bella. I think this presentation will be a big success."

I was momentarily stunned by his closeness, and it took me a second to come back to reality. By then, he'd packed up his things and was headed back past me and out the front door.

"I'll walk with you." I moved past Charlie, ignoring his raised-eyebrow stare, and out the door behind Edward. I steered him past the sidewalk and through the yard to the street in an effort to not bump into Jacob and Charlie, who were just heading up the walk. I waved happily to them and kept moving.

I felt Jacob's eyes on me, but I ignored him and kept my eyes on Edward. Beautiful, perfect Edward.

Edward seemed to sense what I was doing, and a small smile played on his lips. "Your boyfriend?"

"No!" I answered a bit too loudly, then shook my head to calm my nerves. "No, not at all. That's my dad's best friend, Billy Black, and his son, Jacob. Jake and I are best friends, too. So he's definitely not my boyfriend."

"That's not what he thinks." Edward was grinning now.

"What?" I was startled by his cocky reply. He was so much more bold than I'd expected.

"I mean, I bet that's not what he thinks." He smiled even bigger at my flustered rebuttal that somehow came out sounding like a string of unrelated guttural syllables. "I can only imagine one reason why a hot blooded teenage boy with a beautiful, smart, funny female best friend wouldn't wish she were more than a friend. And first impressions lead me to think your Jacob probably doesn't like boys like that."

It took me a second to catch his meaning, and it brought a thrilling blush to my cheeks. Or maybe it was his indirect compliment buried in his comment.

"Well, I don't know what he thinks, but we've never been more than friends, and I have never given him a reason to believe we will be. So I think he'll just have to be happy with friendship."

Edward nodded and tipped his head to the side. "So, if Jacob is permanently friend-zoned, do you have a boyfriend, Bella Swan?"

"No..." I shook my head, not sure where this conversation was going but hoping beyond hope that he was going the direction I was thinking, too.

"But maybe there's someone in whom you're interested?"

His grin was back, but with a shy curl of his lips that signaled he was on to me and my growing crush. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I had no answer. At least not one that I could give him out loud right now. In fact, I didn't think I could speak at all. I'd gone and traded my fascination with a dead boy in a photo for a real-live crush that was rapidly accelerating into something I'd never before felt.

With that, he reached out and placed his hand against my cheek. The pad of his thumb gently passed across my lips, and he softly bit his lower lip before smiling at me once again. For a beautifully blinding second, I thought I was going to pass out.

"Have a good night, Bella. I'll pick you up tomorrow for school, if it's ok with you. You know, just in case your midnight visitor decides to make an early-morning appearance."

I nodded slowly, mesmerized by his touch. Tomorrow definitely could not get here fast enough.

**. . . . .**

Supper was a quieter affair than normal, or at least our definition of 'normal' when the Blacks were joining us. I felt like Billy was looking at me strangely, and Jacob wouldn't make eye contact with me. Billy and Charlie were joking around as usual, but I couldn't make myself try to press Jake to open up. I knew what was bothering him, and he was just going to have to get used to it. I knew that babying him or indulging him in his poutfest would just strengthen his resolve and lengthen his jealous act.

After we'd eaten, our dads settled in the living room as usual to stare at Sports Center. I put the dishes in the sink to deal with later and grabbed my backpack from the corner of the kitchen. I started to head up to my room when Jake finally broke his silence.

"Can I come with you?" He sounded like a little boy, and it made me sad to think that me studying with another boy could bring on such a bout of jealousy and insecurity. Even if it was a little pathetic, too.

I nodded to him and he trudged up the stairs after me.

I'd thrown my books and myself down on the bed, but Jacob was still standing in my doorway. Was he sniffing?

I sniffed the air, too. "Does my room stink or something?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? What does that mean? I don't want my room to stink." I sat up suddenly. "Did you put a pizza box or something under my bed?"

He smiled and shook his head. "It doesn't stink, Bells. But something around here does. Are you and that Cullen guy a thing?"

I palmed my forehead. "Jake. Seriously. We were just studying for a history presentation we have to give together. And our teacher was the one who paired us up, so you can't blame either of us for that."

"Studying? That's not what it looked like when you two were getting all touchy-feely outside. I think he likes you." Jacob was smiling now, and it was clear that he was trying to lighten the mood by teasing me. He put his two index fingers together like they were kissing and wiggled them in my direction. It was also clear that he was serious underneath it all. I laughed in spite of myself and the frustrating situation.

"I don't know, Jake. But if he does, I need you to know that it's ok with me." Jake's hands dropped to his side and he looked at me like he didn't understand what I was saying. I tried to find a way to emphasize what I meant without being too forward. "I might even like him back. So you have to promise me that you won't be mad or jealous or get all weird. It won't change our friendship. Whether I date Edward Cullen or someone else, it's going to happen sometime. And you're going to meet someone, too. So I have to get used to the idea of that. But we can do it. I know our friendship is strong enough to deal with us finding significant others."

Jake sank to the carpeting, pulling his knees to his chest like I did when I was trying to block out the world. "I know, Bells. I just don't think it will be as easy as you think it will." He looked up at my stoic expression an added," For me, at least."

I swallowed thickly. I didn't really want to have this conversation—ever—but I knew it had to happen. And better now than after something happened with Edward. I hoped that maybe we could head off some of the possible weirdness and conflict by talking through it now.

Jacob sighed and crawled toward me. I sat up on the edge of the bed, and he rested his chin on my knee. "I guess I never thought of either of us being with anyone but each other. I sort of thought we'd always be together. That it would just happen for us—you know, that we were just friends because we were kids, but that we'd fall in love when we got older. I never thought that you might not feel that way about me."

I put my hand down on the top of his head and threaded my fingers through his hair. "Jake, you know I love you. But I just don't love you like that. I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression. I just... I just don't think I can see you like that."

He tipped his head forward and pressed his face to the fabric of my jeans. "And I can only see you like that." His voice was muffled, but I wished it had been more muffled so I didn't have to hear the pain in his voice. He took a deep breath, and his hot exhale burned my skin through my jeans. "Just give me some time, Bells. I'll figure it out. More than anything, I want you in my life. And I'll settle for friendship if that's the only way I can have you."

I pushed his head up and leaned down to hug him. We were going to be ok, me and Jake.

He pulled back suddenly, that familiar grin on his face. "Bella and Edward sittin' in a tree..." His sing-song voice echoed off the walls. I fell on him in a fit of giggles, trying to tickle him into silence, but he only yelled louder, laughing under my weight and pathetic pounding fists. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Yeah, we were totally going to be ok. Now, I just hoped Edward and I would keep being just as ok—in a much different way.

**. . . . .**

**The next chapter is mostly written, so show me some love (reaching 400 reviews would make my week!) and I'll see if I can't get it finished and posted this weekend. There is some big-time drama coming up, so you definitely want to leave some reviews ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Holy crow, you guys! :) Thanks much for the great reviews and PMs. I can't believe that there are so many of you so excited to read this story. It makes me feel great to know you are all behind me. **

**I'm posting this a couple days later than I'd expected, and this chapter has a bit less content than I'd initially intended, but real life has been knocking me down a bit lately. The good news is that I have big chunks of the next two chapters done, and there are some key things that will be happening fast for our Bella and Edward.**

**You'll have to give me a week or two to get back to this, though, because I have a little thing called finals and then graduation coming up, so this story will have to take a bit of a back seat for a short while. But then it's just work and a summer class to contend with, so I should be back with a vengeance.**

**Now, on to the main event. I hope you enjoy!**

**. . . . .**

I was dreaming. A soft, sweet dream of summer and warmth and sun, and Edward's cool hand in mine. I had fallen asleep staring at one of the photos of the mysterious Edward look-alike, and my subconscious self wasn't sure if it was photo-Edward or real-life-Edward with whom I was frolicking, but it didn't seem fair to care. Whichever Edward this was, his eyes were shining and he was laughing. _We_ were laughing. It was beautiful, and I clung to the dream with everything I had.

Then something in the real world stirred, and it shook me from the perfectness of my dream. I groggily opened my eyes and struggled to sit up. I knew something had woken me, something in direct contrast to the loveliness of my dream, but it took me a moment to figure it out.

Then I heard it again.

A scratching, scuffing, scuffling noise at my window. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and goose bumps raised all over my flesh. I couldn't breathe. I knew it wasn't Jacob. He usually warned me when he was coming over, and he always tossed up a few pebbles at my window to wake me on the rare occasion that he stopped by when it was too late to call. I doubted he'd be scratching on the glass—he knew what a scaredy-pants I was at night, especially since the weirdness with the possible intruder.

But he was the only one who came in through the window. At least the only one I allowed to come through the window. And that meant whatever—or whoever—was outside was not a welcome guest.

I begged it to be a moth or one of those demented beetles whose only goal was finding light and that would bash themselves silly against the glass on summer nights when I stayed up late reading, but this noise was not a bug-noise.

It was more like the sound of someone trying to open the window.

I squinted into the darkness and tried to focus on whatever was behind the glass. Was that a shadow? A form of a person? Or was my mind playing tricks on me? I held my breath and listened, my entire body on full alert. A few silent seconds of nothingness and then—suddenly—another scritching noise. A scraping at the base of the window frame—someone was trying to pry open the locked pane. Terror jolted through me, and I had no idea what to do.

I wanted to scream for Charlie, call Jacob and run shrieking from my room all at the same time, but I was frozen with fear.

Suddenly, just as I was sure I was going to die in my bed from fright, all hell broke loose in the yard below. Howling, growling, barking, snarling. Was that the neighbor's dog? It sounded like six angry German Shepherds were congregating directly outside my room. The noise at my window stopped instantly and there was an abrupt, loud thump on the exterior of the house between the first floor and my room, like someone had kicked off of the wall.

At that instant, I could see the sliver of the moon shining through the trees. Something had been blocking my view of it. That was all I needed to know to confirm that there had indeed been something—or worse, someone—at my window. The barking and growling continued, but it sounded like it was fading into the woods.

My brain told me to jump out of bed and see what the commotion was all about, but I couldn't move. Just then, Charlie burst through my bedroom door, the hallway light flooding my room. I shut my eyes against the brightness and the fear.

"Bells! Are you ok?" His gun was in one hand, his flashlight in the other.

I nodded dumbly at him, and he rushed to my window, shining the light out into the yard. He unlatched the window and lifted the sash, leaning out at the waist and directing the beam of his flashlight farther into the woods. I was still frozen with fear, a feeling that wasn't receding with the ever-distant dog sounds.

"What the hell was that? Did you see anything? "

I just stared at him, unable to speak and unsure of what to tell him.

He shook his head at me, closed and locked the window and then pulled my curtains shut. "At first it sounded like someone was trying to break in, I thought I heard noises on the outside of the house. But before I could get to it, there was some kind of dog fight or something." He advanced toward my bed, the flashlight beam hitting my bedspread and semi-blinding me. "Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

"Maybe the neighbor's dogs were chasing someone." The voice that came out of my mouth was shaky and didn't sound at all like me. Charlie started toward my door. "I... I think someone was looking in my window."

He stopped in his tracks. "What did you say?"

"I think whoever it was was looking in my window. I woke up—I thought I heard something scratching at the glass. And then there was all of that noise and it moved and I could see the moon. So I know there was something there. Something big. I think it was a person."

Charlie came over to me and bent down, his eyes were glassy with sleep and nerves. He stared into my eyes, which I imagined looked a lot like his right about now. "Bells, you have to be honest with me. I know sometimes Jake comes in through the window. I've let it slide because I like that kid and I know you two are just friends. Heck, I wouldn't mind if you decided to be more than that—and that's when I wouldn't put up with him coming through the window anymore—but that's another discussion."

I opened my mouth to say something—to correct him or argue—but I couldn't find the words. He continued. "What I'm saying is that I know your secret, so you have no reason to lie about this. I need you to be honest with me right now. Was it Jake or someone else you'd invited in that was outside just now?"

I shook my head no. "Dad, honest. I have no idea who or what that was."

Charlie nodded and handed me my robe from my desk chair. "Go ahead and sleep in my bed for the rest of the night. I'll call down to the station and have them send an extra patrol to the neighborhood tonight just in case. I'll make sure the house is secure and sleep on the couch. We can talk about this more in the morning."

I slipped my robe over my pajamas and numbly made my way to Charlie's room. As I crawled under his covers, I knew there was no way I was sleeping anymore tonight. Instead, I tried to force myself to remember every minute of my beautiful dream to stave off the terror until the sun rose under the veil of fog and mist.

**. . . . .**

There were voices in the kitchen the next morning when I opened the bathroom door after my shower. I listened, wondering who could possibly be at our house so early. It was definitely Charlie, but the voices were so low that I couldn't make out the owner of the other words. I checked to make sure my robe was done up tight, wrapped a towel around my wet hair and padded half-way down the stairs to investigate.

Jacob stepped out of the kitchen and to the landing to meet me. When he saw me, he took the stairs three at a time and gathered me up in a giant bear hug. I let him hold me and even snuggled into his neck for just a moment, enjoying the added feeling of safety before my lack of breath caused me to tap out.

"God, Bells. Charlie told me what happened last night. Are you ok?" His eyes were wide and worried.

I put on a brave face, wondering if Charlie had called him to come over. "Sure, sure. I live with the Forks Chief of Police. Who's going to mess with me?" Charlie snorted from the kitchen. "Besides, nothing happened. I'm probably taking this a little too seriously."

Charlie came out to stand by the front door. "I don't think one can take something like this too seriously, Bells. There was definitely something out there last night. I had the guys come and check it out at first light. They didn't find any shoe prints or definitive evidence, but the K-9 unit was really worked up about something. He indicated that it came from the front of the house and left through the woods."

I shivered inadvertently, and Jake wrapped his warm arm around my shoulders. "Charlie is going to go to work, but I told him I'd stay here with you until you had to leave for school. We thought it might be smart for me to drive you in today."

I fumbled for words. Edward was going to pick me up, but I didn't know how to announce that to my dad and my overprotective best friend. Especially with all the added drama.

I didn't think fast enough, because before I knew it, Charlie was strapping on his holster and headed out the door.

"I'll send an extra patrol past the house every hour just to make sure it's secure. Bells, you head over to Jake's tonight after school and I'll bring a pizza by for dinner. We can come home together after the game."

I nodded dumbly. I'd worry about the details later. I'd make Jake lock up after I'd left. And maybe Edward could just drop me off at Jacob's house on the way home. It would be a little out of his way, but maybe he wouldn't mind. I definitely wouldn't mind some extra time with him, even it if was in the car. Then I could catch a ride home with Charlie.

Charlie took one long look at me, and then left, locking the door behind him.

Jacob was watching me strangely. "What aren't you telling him?"

I sighed. Why did this boy have to know me so well?

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but... um... well, someone is picking me up for school today. I didn't want to mention it to Charlie, but now he's going to find out. And you're here to witness it, so there's no hiding it from you, either."

Jacob took a step back. "It's him, isn't it?"

"If by _him_ you mean Edward Cullen, then yes, it is _him_."

Jake scowled, furrowing his brows. "I don't like that, Bella. There's been too much weirdness lately, and I think a lot of it has to do with the Cullens coming to town."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a light shove, causing him to teeter off-balance and have to step down a stair. He had seemed fine with Edward when we'd had the talk, and I was annoyed that he'd reverted to jealous Jacob.

He persisted despite my non-verbal dismissal. "Maybe I could drive you to school instead. I can pick you up, too, and take you to my house. Can't you just call that Cullen guy and tell him to forget it?" Just then, Jake turned toward the front door. "Or not."

He huffed a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes at me. "I'm gonna go make myself some cereal. You go and put on some lip gloss for Lover Boy. I might have to let him drive you to school, but I'm not leaving you alone with him here."

A car door slammed and I realized what he was saying—Edward was here. And he was really, really early.

"Oh, crap!" I grabbed at the towel on my head. Great. The most gorgeous man ever to walk the earth was here to drive me to school, and I had sopping wet hair and no make up. I'd never been what you'd call high maintenance, nothing even remotely close, but there was a limit to how much au naturel a girl could get away with. I had no choice.

"Distract him!" I shouted and made a break for the bathroom.

**. . . . .**

Never had I primped and preened so quickly. I sprunched my hair with a little leave-in conditioner, dabbed some concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles caused by a night of no sleep and a lot of worry, powdered my nose and touched on some lip gloss on my way to my bedroom. There, I grabbed the jeans I'd worn yesterday and rifled around for a suitable top. I slid my feet into my trusty old Converse and took a deep breath before heading downstairs.

Where I found the boy of my dreams and my giant oaf of a best friend staring at each other across the kitchen table.

Well, not staring so much as glaring. They looked like they were having some kind of epic telepathic battle or still, silent death match. Or a silent telepathic argument to the death. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that much testosterone coupled with such tightly furrowed brows, set jaws and tense posture wouldn't last long in one room.

"Hi, guys!" I channeled my inner (very inner) Jessica, and traipsed into the room like it was my birthday. "Since you're both here so early, does anyone want breakfast?"

_When in doubt, feed people. Way to go, Bella._

I fought my inner voice and their dubious looks. "Jake! I have Captain Crunch!" I frantically dug through the cabinet for the box of cereal I'd picked up for him the last time I was at the store.

"Um, Bells, I'm not very hungry. I think I'll be going." He stood up and moved to stand between Edward and me. "Besides, three's a crowd."

I rolled my eyes at him and pretended that I didn't see the way he practically bared his teeth at the thought of Edward. These boys. "Don't be silly, Jake. You have time to eat something. Bacon?"

He shook his head and stepped forward, grabbing me in yet another crushing bear hug.

I tried not to look at Edward over Jake's shoulder, but I couldn't help it. He looked like he wanted to jump out of his chair and murder Jacob with his bare hands. As if to second my thoughts, his forearms flexed menacingly and he looked away from us and out of the window. I struggled to free myself from Jake's massive arms. He resisted for a moment, then relaxed and set my feet back on the ground.

He kissed my forehead in what could only be a weird show of dominance, and then he stalked out of the room and slammed the front door behind him. I didn't hear his Rabbit start up, and I briefly wondered if he was going to walk all of the way home.

But then Edward spoke and all thoughts of Jake's travel plans left my head.

"Are you ok? After last night, I mean?"

I nodded slowly. I hadn't heard the two of them talking, but Jake must have filled Edward in on the drama while I was in the bathroom. Perhaps that was the cause of the strain between them—maybe they weren't angry at each other, but both merely upset about what had happened. In either case, I shrugged to downplay the events of the night before.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, nothing really happened. Whatever it was got chased away by the neighbor dogs, so hopefully that will have made a big enough impression to keep it from coming back." I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. To be honest, just the thought of someone lurking outside my window was enough to make me want to move to another house. One with watchtowers and a moat. Filled with alligators.

"I feel terrible that I wasn't here to make sure you were safe." Edward's eyes shone. He looked angry or worried, which made me sad and a little giddy at the same time. I was more than touched by his protectiveness. "I had no idea that this would happen."

I stifled a laugh. "How could you? It's not like you're psychic or anything."

His eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to smile. Then his eyes clouded over again.

"You're right, I am not psychic. But I should have known. I should have been here to protect you."

I shook my head. "What is it with you guys and wanting to protect me? I mean, it was the middle of the night. What are you and Jake going to do? Take turns staking out my house?" I rolled my eyes at the thought. "I know this is a little disconcerting, but I'm sure it's just random. Maybe now that whatever it was got chased away, it won't come back."

I was still having a hard time admitting it was a _whom_, not a _what_.

Edward rumbled a little under his breath, and it sounded almost like a growl. "Well, I wouldn't let a few overgrown mutts chase me away from what I really wanted, and I doubt it will either."

He looked up at me then. He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he immediately tried to tone down the harshness of his statement.

"It will be ok, Bella. We will make sure nothing hurts you." He smiled, but it was a tight, tense gesture. "I'm not sure what it wants, but whatever it is, it will have to go through me and my family."

His defensive position was sweet, but somehow it made me even more nervous. He was new to town and hardly knew me, yet he was taking it upon himself—and his whole family—to protect me from a prowler? It just seemed odd. Something in the back of my mind twinged, but I brushed off the developing thought. I'd had enough drama for one day, and it wasn't even eight o'clock.

**. . . . .**


	17. Chapter 17

**. . . . .**

Our drive to school was pleasant, but there was an air of tenseness that I blamed on the strange occurrences from the night before. Edward seemed to be distracted, looking in his mirrors and out the side windows more often and for much longer than seemed safe. But he was a good driver, and our path never wavered from exactly between the solid white and yellow lines.

When we arrived at school, he helped me from the car and shouldered my bag. I watched all of my classmates stare at us as we marched from the parking lot into the school, my cheeks burning a bright red.

Edward left me at the door to my first hour class with a gentle squeeze of my upper arm.

I still couldn't believe this was happening to me—Bella Swan was not this lucky in love. Ever.

As if to remind me of that fact, Mike Newton cornered me before I could get to my desk.

"Belllllllaaaaaa." He said my name like a drawn-out sigh.

I inadvertently mimicked his breathy tone with a sigh of my own. Oh, Mike. Would he never get it through his head that I'd rather die than date him?

"My mom wants to know if you'd be able to work after school. Nina is sick, and she's worried we'll be understaffed this afternoon. We've had a lot of business the past few days. I think people are getting ready for camping season."

I worked at Newtons' Outfitters during the summer, and they sometimes penciled me in for shifts during the school year to help stock, cover other employees' vacations or on days when they were short staffed. This wasn't an odd request, but I was always suspicious every time Mike approached me about it. We were often alone at the store on days I filled in, and he liked to turn my shifts into opportunities to try to wear me down and convince me to go out on a date with him.

I knew I had a lot of homework and I was saddened about not being able to spend the afternoon with Edward—just in case he were to ask—but I was saving up for college, and every little bit helped. I knew my dad didn't have a lot of extra cash laying around, so I tried to take every extra shift I could squeeze in.

"Sure, Mike. But I might be a little late. Edward picked me up for school today, so he'll have to take me home first to get my truck."

I'd actually hoped Edward would drop me off and pick me up after my shift was over, but I wanted to clue in Mike that he had more competition than he thought. I was right—his face fell and his shoulders slumped from their overconfident pose.

"Oh, ok." He eyed me cautiously. "Well, don't be too late. It will be just me at the store after four; Mom has to drive Dad to the airport."

I nodded, trying to hide my wry smile. Of course we'd be alone. Sometimes I thought Mike came up with outings for his parents specifically so that he could be alone with me.

College was turning out to cost me more than I'd expected, and it was still a year and a half away.

I collapsed into my chair and pretended to follow along with the lecture. Instead, I was thinking about Edward. I knew I liked him, and even though it seemed too good to be true, it seemed that he liked me, too. I tried to block out the fuzzy, lightheadedness I always felt when I thought of him. This was no time to be overly-emotional. I knew I had a tendency to let my heart lead, but something was telling me that I needed all of my wits about me if I was really going to make a go of this.

I firmly demanded that my brain kick in and give me a little advice.

I knew that giddy feelings weren't enough to get anyone by when it came to love and relationships, but Edward was different. As much as I was pretending otherwise, there was something about him that was still just not right. Yes, he was gorgeous and brilliant and funny and kind. But as much as he charmed me, there was also something in my heart and head that were balking.

My discussion about monsters with Jacob seemed like it was years ago, but my sixth sense told me that I needed to think a little more about what Jake had said. And what he hadn't said. I knew that boy almost better than I knew myself, and I knew he wasn't telling me something. Exactly what or why, I didn't know. But there was definitely some undercover information I was missing.

I'd seen my parents ripped apart by hidden thoughts and secret emotions, and I had always promised myself that any relationship I was lucky enough to have wouldn't suffer the same fate. And I knew that going into a relationship—or whatever this was—with secrets wasn't a wise way to start. We had to clear the air, Edward and I.

And it had to start by him telling me what on earth was going on with those photos. I took a deep breath and promised myself that I'd talk to him. No later than the weekend.

**. . . . .**

The morning flew by, and Edward was walking me toward the cafeteria before I knew it. Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper and a frantically-waving Alice were already seated at what had become their usual table. I returned her wave and grabbed a lunch tray. Edward insisted on holding it for me, and I filled a bowl with salad. I grabbed a brownie for good measure. I deserved a little treat after last night.

Alice threw her arms around me as I approached the table.

"Oh, Bella! We've all been so worried about you. I was sure you'd be ok, but this really came out of nowhere!"

I looked at her, confused. Edward put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. He smiled down at me. "I told them what had happened last night; I hope that was ok."

"Oh, um, sure. I mean, really it was nothing." I craned my neck to make eye contact with Alice, who was tucked neatly behind Edward. "But I appreciate your concern."

Rosalie huffed and said something under her breath. I didn't catch it, but Edward obviously did. He glared at her and steered me to the other side of the table.

The rest of lunch was fairly uneventful, if you could consider Alice grilling me about every detail of my life and Edward trying to shush her to no avail as typical. However, after just a short time of knowing her, I was becoming certain this was normal behaviour for my smallest new friend.

**. . . . .**

I stared at Edward and daydreamed my way through history class, and I tried (and failed) to keep my giggling to 50 percent of Jessica's normal rate during biology. I didn't want to give away my growing crush, but Edward was funny, and he seemed to be intentionally hamming it up for my benefit. I wasn't sure what love felt like, but I was pretty sure my feelings for Edward were something close to it.

As we left school for the day, he tucked my backpack under his arm and led me toward the door. I was getting used to his chivalrous attentions, and it felt good to be treated so sweetly.

"Our presentation is coming up, Bella," he reminded me. "Do you want to go to the library, or maybe come back to my house to go over our plan one more time?"

His eyes squinted adorably, and I had to fight the urge to swoon. I knew there was no need for us to review our notes again—we'd been perfectly in sync when we'd first gone over our plan—and I was thrilled to the core to realize that Edward was simply making an excuse to hang out with me.

My heart fell when I suddenly remembered that I'd promised Mike I'd come into work.

"That sounds like a great idea, but I have to work this afternoon." I hoped he heard the sadness in my voice and was somewhat comforted by the fact that his face mirrored my disappointment.

"My apologies, Bella. I didn't realize you had a job," he paused for a moment. "That was very thoughtless of me to ask you at the last minute and not consider that you might have other plans."

I shook my head at his courteous comment. "Not at all, I don't usually work regular hours during the school year, but the shop is shorthanded this afternoon, so Mike asked me to come in."

"Mike?" Edward's perfectly arched eyebrow raised an inch. "That Mike?"

His eyes traveled to the boy obviously stalling by the door to the parking lot. I snorted.

"Yes, _that_ Mike." I rolled my eyes, "No matter how hard I try to get away, it always seems to be _that_ Mike."

Edward chuckled, and I was glad he was amused, despite it being at my expense. One of us deserved to get some kind of entertainment out of Mike's over-fascination with me.

"Well, since you have to work with him all night, it's the least I could do to offer you a ride to work."

I smiled shyly. "Well, I don't have my truck here, so it's the least I could do to let you." I grinned at him, and continued to lay it on thick. "I suppose Mike would be willing to give me a lift home at the end of the night."

It was Edward's turn to snort, and I grinned despite myself at the undignified sound coming from his usually-dignified self.

"I think I could manage to come and get you after your shift." He chuckled again, lowering his voice. "That might not make Mike too happy, since I'm sure he'd be all too glad to drive you home, but I'd love to have the pleasure of doing that for you. Especially since I'm the reason your truck is at your house."

As if on cue, Mike stepped forward, awkwardly approaching us.

"So, Bella, are you coming? To work, I mean? I know your truck isn't here, so I thought you could ride in with me and it would save you a trip home." He fidgeted his hands in his pockets, and I felt the slightest bit badly for him. If only because he was so out of his league standing next to Edward.

I shook my head no and felt my hand reach out and touch Edward's arm.

"Thanks anyway, Mike. Edward already offered to drop me off at work and then drive me home tonight." Mike looked a bit like he might cry, so I softened the blow by making a lame excuse. "We have a presentation to finish planning, and I cut our study session this afternoon so that I could work. We'll use the driving time to go over the final details of the presentation. I appreciate your offer, though."

He smiled, seeming to buy my excuse. "Sure then. See you at work."

We watched him exit the school and wave clownishly to a pack of freshmen girls by the sidewalk before climbing into his car.

Edward smiled at me, "Fast thinking there, Bella. I was worried you were going to be too nice for your own good and get sucked into accepting his offer. Or maybe you prefer to ride with him..."

It took me a split second to realize he was being sarcastic, and I reached out to jokingly shove him. He leaned just out of my reach and then made a break for the door as I lurched forward unsteadily.

I was laughing hard by the time we'd reached his car. He opened the door for me and deposited my backpack in the trunk.

I took a deep breath of his cologne when he got in, and he grinned at me before starting the engine. I blushed—he was totally on to me.

I settled into the leather seat and grinned even bigger when I realized that I could get used to this being my every day life.

**. . . . . **

An hour later, I was still giddy from Edward's presence as I dug through the cartons of ski jackets in the stock room. I was technically supposed to be doing inventory in the gap between customers, but I wasn't sure I was mentally capable of counting right now—I was so distracted by the gorgeous boy who had completely swept me off of my feet in such a short time.

I heard Mike's footsteps enter the back room, but I was in such a good mood that his presence didn't stop me from humming a happy little tune under my breath.

"Bella? Can you come out to the floor for a minute?" He shrugged and motioned toward the door. "There's a customer here who wants a girl's opinion on a jacket." He rolled his eyes. "She doesn't think _my_ opinion qualifies."

I looked up and giggled at Mike's inadvertent labeling of himself as a girl. He caught the mistake.

"I mean, that my opinion is good enough. I tried to tell her that I look at a lot of girls, so I know what looks good but..."

I laughed harder now, and he nodded wryly, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, she wasn't impressed with that either."

I put down the clipboard, put a sticky note on the box where I'd left off to hold my place, and then headed out to the sales floor.

Mike pointed me in the direction of the jackets, and I walked toward the girl. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and she was holding a black jacket in her arm. She was dressed in some kind of black trench coat and wearing dressy black boots. She didn't exactly look like the outdoors type. I sighed as quietly as I could and stepped up behind her.

"Can I help you? Mike said you wanted an opinion on a coat?"

She turned around slowly, and a slight smile played on her lips. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, and then held out the coat in question. She opened her eyes and blinked three times in rapid succession.

"So, you're Bella."

I took the coat from her, but I couldn't stop staring at her eyes. They were—red?

**. . . . .**

**I didn't mean to leave this as a cliffhanger... but there was simply too much to cram into one chapter. Chapter 18 will be up in much less time than this last bit took. Review if you like.**

**In the meantime, if you like Darkward, will you do me a favor? Take a peek at my oneshot, You Never Forget Your First, and let me know what you think. I've had a few PMs asking me why there are so few reviews on that story (darned if I know!) and telling me that I should do something to get more readers and reviewers (whatever that might be). A lot of people have read it, but very few have left reviews. I'm not sure why that is, but I'd appreciate hearing what you all think about it.**


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